Sincerely, V Walker
by K.Corra
Summary: Unfortunately, people were already staring at me. Because my mother had green hair.  Yes, my friends, you heard me correctly. My mother – my delirious, TALK IN CAPITALS mother – had charmed her hair green for my leaving. NOTE: NOT A FRED X JAMES ROMANCE
1. Green Hair and CAPITALS

**HI EVERYONE**

**Okay so, I really hate making OC's as main characters because... yeah people always think they're Mary Sue's and it's just like massive BLEAGHHH**

**But I had to make one for this, because I wanted to write about the third gen of Hogwarter's and romance is always the most fun to write, but I couldn't write romance with the already existing characters because EVERYONE WAS RELATED TO EVERYONE ELSE. I'm serious, Rose and Scorpius are related, and so are Teddy and Victoire. So you see my problem? BUT I'm hoping you lovely people will be kind enough to overlook that fact :) THANK YOU**

**P.S IF YOU THOUGHT THIS WAS GOING TO BE A FREDXJAMES FANFIC YOU CAN TURN AROUND RIGHT NOW, I JUST COULDN'T BRING MYSELF TO PUT OC =_=**

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CHAPTER ONE – Green Hair and CAPITALS

I always knew my mother was a nutter.

I mean, moving countries halfway through my schooling? Who does that?

My mother, that's who.

"Now, Valerie, you look at me. As SOON as you arrive at Hogwarts you are to go STRAIGHT to the Headmistress's office. Then, I want you to write to me as SOON as you unpack, and tell me EVERYTHING. I want to know what HOUSE you are in, and who's in your DORMITORY. Don't mess with the other kids, but if they bully you, I give you permission to play your wand. IS THAT CLEAR?"

My mother had a tendency to TALK IN CAPITALS when she was excited.

Or when she was feeling dictatorial.

I wasn't particularly sure which of the above she was feeling at that present moment, but if it was the former, she was probably more excited about the fact that she could finally get rid of me, rather than the fact that I was finally going to Hogwarts.

Alas, compassion had never been a strong point for her.

I nodded blandly, hoping she'd get it over and done with so I could board the train.

"I'm sure you'll make LOTS AND LOTS AND LOTS of friends!"

She didn't exactly say _how_ I was to acquire said friends. Perhaps she thought I had some super social-birdy skils.

Pfft.

Right.

Social bird, I was not.

She beamed at me brightly. Then she leaned forward and wrapped me up a in a bone-crushing hug.

"OH VAL, I'M SO HAPPY FOR YOU! YOU'RE FINALLY GOING TO HOGWARTS!"

In case you haven't ever heard anyone TALK IN CAPITALS, let me tell you one thing; a few words here and there are bearable, but hearing WHOLE SENTENCES SPOKEN IN CAPITALS ARE ENOUGH TO TAKE YOUR EAR OFF. That, as well as having all the air crushed out of your lungs, is altogether quite an unpleasant feeling.

"Th-that's – great – Mum – " I choked out. My hands – at least, what I could feel of them – reached up to pat her awkwardly on the back.

She pulled back to look at me happily.

"Okay, off you go! Have fun sweetie!"

I smiled wryly. "Love you, Mum." I leaned forward and kissed her cheek. Then I turned around and moved in about the waves of Hogwarts students.

I headed straight to the luggage cart. After hauling my suitcase onto the pile, I looked around for some nice looking people that could maybe start off my LOTS AND LOTS AND LOTS of friends. I tried blending in with the crowd; I didn't want to stick out as 'the newbie', at least not until I had made it to the castle.

Unfortunately, people were already staring at me. Because they saw me with me my mother. Because my mother had green hair.

Yes, my friends, you heard me correctly. My mother – my delirious, nutty, TALK IN CAPITALS mother – had charmed her hair green for my leaving.

"Why green?" I had pleaded, when I walked in on her doing so this morning before we left. She had puffed it up gently so it stuck out in all directions, making her look like some flaming Grindylow.

"I'm feeling happy today! Green is a HAPPY colour!" she said jovially.

Um.

No, Mum.

No, it isn't.

"Green is _envious_. Are you envious?"

"Don't be SILLY, Vallie, what do I have to be ENVIOUS about?"

"Exactly! Then in what way does green suit your mood? If you're happy, then it should be yellow. Yellow is a happy colour, Mum." Besides, yellow was sort of close to blonde, and would at least keep _some_ form of normality, and maintain what little pride I had.

Unfortunately, my mother had never really thought much about normality. Nor my pride.

"Don't be RIDICULOUS, Valerie darling! Yellow? Now how would that make ME look? Like a CANARY!"

Better a canary than a Grindylow.

But if there was one sure-fire way that would absolutely convince her to go with green, it would be to try and persuade her not to go with green. You'd think I would have picked up on that by now.

That was how I had turned up at the train station; my mother TALKING CAPITALS at my side, with her – kill me now – green hair.

I buried my face in my hands. Ugh… so did not need this right now. I missed my old friends so much. It bothered me to think that they were starting school right now, but without me. But then again, I rarely had any security.

I was born in England, but when I was 10 we moved to France. My grandparents were French and my mother just had this SUDDEN URGE to move over there. I attended Beauxbatons Academy and I loved it there. I had heaps of great friends, and Merlin knows French had practically become my first language.

And then of course, my mother was a crazy traveller. I had never spent a single holiday at Beauxbatons. My mother always had something planned, always somewhere new for us to go; I'd even lived among Muggles. But despite all the travels, I had at least had the one security of returning to Beauxbatons afterwards. Not this time though.

Just last year, my mother, a journalist, was offered a job at _The Daily Prophet_. Why they would want some crazy woman WHO SPOKE IN CAPITALS, with bloody GREEN hair, I have no idea, but my mother accepted, telling me it was an OPPURTUNITY OF A LIFETIME.

Needless to say, I came back.

It was times like this when I wished I had chained myself to the house and refused to leave.

I hopped onto the train. I wasn't sure which compartment to enter when I knew no one. Biting my lip, I looked around.

A bunch of first years…

A bunch of older boys playing with a – ew…

A bunch of third year girls giggling even louder than my Mum's CAPITALS…

Ah ha!

I stopped as I peered into the next compartment, trying to remain inconspicuous while doing so. There were three occupants; two girls and one boy. The girl sitting closest to the window had pretty, dark red hair that went down to her waist, her slender fingers plaiting it into a meticulous braid. The girl sitting next to her had long black hair and olive skin. Her hair was in a high ponytail and she had a fringe that swept elegantly to the side. The boy sitting opposite them sported messy, light brown hair, glasses framing his startling green eyes, and he was drumming his fingers on his knee.

Ah… what a lovely trio. Socially inept as I was, if I had any chance of making LOTS AND LOTS AND LOTS of friends, this would be the place to start, would it not?

Yes, I thought so too.

Taking a deep breath, mustering up every little bit of my social-birdiness to sport my most dazzling social-birdy smile, I gently knocked on the window. All three of my lovely trio looked up to stare at me, with polite bewilderment.

Ahh crap.

I was regretting my moment of social-birdy courage already. Beautiful humans such as these did not make friends with mediocre-looking beings such as myself.

But, had I wished to walk away, I should have figured out this important fact of life three seconds ago. As of now, I had nowhere to run. Cursing silently under breath, I slid open the door of the compartment and stepped inside.

None of them said anything. I wanted to cry. Could they not spare me the embarrassment of having to talk first? I had already made a public outcast of myself by turning up with a Grindylow speaking CAPITALS. But alas, I believe _I_ was the one intruding in on their loveliness, therefore I, Grindylow Jr, would have to give reasons as to why I was doing so.

"Um… hi," I said.

Wow, I'm sure you just blew them away with your social-birdiness right there, Valerie.

"Um, all the other carriages are full… do you mind if I join you?"

There. Reason for intrusion offered. Now I just had to wait for them to decide my fate. I silently prayed that they wouldn't let me wallow in my mediocrity forever.

I thanked every single one of my amazing, beautiful, fantastic, non-Grindylow ancestors when they smiled.

"Of course."

"Sure."

"Take a seat."

Ahh… I adored this trio more and more every second.

"Thank you so much." I meant it. I sat down next to the green-eyed boy, and he did not cringe away from my mediocre self. Lovely feeling, that was.

The dark-skinned girl with black hair smiled at me. "What year are you in? I don't think we've met before."

Ah. We hit that snag already, huh?

"Oh, I'm new. I'm a transfer student from the Beauxbatons Academy of Magic."

This seemed to spark an air of interest in the compartment.

The red-haired girl tossed her braid over her shoulder and leaned in. "You're from Beauxbatons?"

I swallowed. In was hard to decipher whether her tone of incredulousness was one of fascination or disgust. I prayed that it wasn't the latter. I nodded slowly.

"Wow!" – I sighed internally – "We never have students that transfer after first year! You're a first."

Oh great… as if I didn't feel enough of an outsider already.

"Do you know what house you are in?" The green-eyed boy asked me.

I shook my head. "No, not yet. But I'm not being sorted with the first-years," I added quickly before they could ask. God, how mortifying would that be? "I have a meeting with the head mistress after the dinner and she'll sort everything out then."

All three were leaning in and looking at me with wide-eyes. It was an odd feeling when you had three people as lovely as these devoting their full, unadulterated attention to you.

"What year?" inquired the green-eyed boy.

"Um…" I tried to remember what my mum had told me. Ah yes. "I'll be in sixth year." Or as my mum had put it, SIXTH year.

"Oh!" The dark-skinned girl leaned forward and offered me her hand. "You're in my year!"

Sweet relief. I shook her hand with a smile. "Thank Merlin," I muttered. "You have no idea how relieved I am to hear that."

She laughed. "I'm Roxanne," she said. "Roxanne Weasley."

"Valerie Walker. It's really nice to meet you."

She smiled. "Likewise." She gestured to the red-haired girl and the green-eyed boy. "Rosie and Al here are only in 5th year." She sighed dramatically, giving me a wink. "Young ones."

The red head rolled her eyes and leaned over to shake my hand as well. "Rose Weasley."

I quirked an eyebrow, and looked between them. "Um, sisters…?" I asked slowly, not confident with my observation as they looked nothing alike. Both laughed heartily.

"Cousins," said Roxanne.

I nodded, wondering if cousins usually looked as different as these two did. I turned to the green-eyed boy.

"Albus," he said, shaking my hand with a smile, "But Al is fine."

I pursed my lips and looked him up and down. "Weasley, too?" I asked.

He laughed, his messy hair falling into his eyes. "Not quite," he said, his eyes twinkling, "but you're warm. We're still cousins." His mouth twitched. "Potter."

My jaw dropped. Yes I had been in France for the past six years; yes I had had no connection with England ever since, but that was one name that I couldn't possibly _not_ know.

"You… you're Harry Potter's son?"

When he nodded, something clicked. I whirled back to face Rose in a mixture of shock and awe. "Then you must be – "

"Ron Weasley's daughter? Yep. Very fast on the uptake, this one," she said with a laugh to Roxanne.

I turned to Roxanne. "And you…"

She smiled. "My parents aren't as obvious. George Weasley. My mother is Angelina Johnson."

Ah, I see, I see.

"Wow…" I slumped back in my chair in a daze. I was sitting in the same compartment as the children of the heroes of the wizarding world.

God, how demoralizing.

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**AUTHOR'S NOTE (Yes, again XD):**

**OKAY So I'm hoping you all enjoyed that... won't be surprised if you don't, but please tell me what you think of it, and if you have any feedback, I would LOVE to hear it - I am trying to become a better writer so HELP ME PEOPLE BECAUSE I NEED IT.**

**And a big thank you to Olive, Isabel, BBFFN (LOL) and Murdy for beta-reading this and correcting it. What would I do without you guys? x)**

**Kay thanks, love you all :)**

**xxx K**


	2. Guidance for the Misguided

**HI GUYS**

**OKAY, SO I KNOW I SUCK, AND I HAVEN'T POSTED IN LIKE 48 DAYS. YEAH I'M SORRY, SO THANKS TO EVERYONE WHO IS STILL ALERTED TO ME. YOU ARE AMAZING. **

**Right, so, I know this chapter's really short, but it was actually meant to be longer, but I didn't know how to write the last bit, so I'll just post it as a separate chapter... which probably means that, you know, the next one will be even shorter but I'LL TRY. It's actually been sitting in my computer for ages, but I could never get the end right, and so I decided to just upload it, because if I hadn't even uploaded it by the time the old one expired then that would be just shameful *sigh* apologies everyone, I'm a failure D:**

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CHAPTER TWO – Guidance for the Misguided

Despite feeling thoroughly overshadowed by my fellows, the train ride to Hogwarts was an enjoyable one.

Although I'm sure that their life stories were much more exciting than my own, I found myself talking about myself a lot of the way. They wanted to know what it was like at Beauxbatons (too shiny, too clean, too modern; but I loved it), whether or not we had French spells (yes), and whether those spells were direct translations (no) or if they were different words, but generally did the same things (yes).

I also found out a lot about Hogwarts. They told me about the suits of armour, the moving staircases, the secret passages. They told me that Hogwarts was an old-fashioned castle and the whole place was littered with ancient statues, rugs and paintings.

I liked the sound of it already.

Dinner was the most splendid affair. There were long tables and benches, the hall alit with floating candles. The candles at Beauxbatons were always in little glass bulbs and shone so brightly that you couldn't look at them directly – they sort of reminded me of this bizarre Muggle invention called the 'light bulb' – and I had disliked them thoroughly. The pedantic shininess of everything had always made me feel like I was living in a bloody crystal dome. Magic, to me, always felt traditional. With history.

Hogwarts was exactly that.

I tried not to pay too much attention to the sorting. Watching the little first-years tottering up in their oversized robes, sitting on that rickety stool and putting on that oversized hat was making me edgy. Hey, it looked like a menacing hat alright? And besides, those first years looked terrified. I tried to picture what I would look like when it sorted me.

…

Oh.

How attractive.

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Roxanne asked me if I needed a guide. I had almost rolled my eyes. Did I look so stupid that I couldn't even find the Headmistress' office? No, I had said, I would find the Office on my own and would meet her outside Gryffindor Common Room afterwards.

Half an hour later, however, I was wishing I had taken up on her offer.

I turned yet another corner. How bloody big was this school? I looked around; the corridors were deserted. How was it possible that there was not a single student in the hallways?

I looked down at my watch. Crap. I was already ten minutes late. Where was the Headmistress's office? I ran up to a door and pushed it open slightly. Empty classroom. Running my hands though my hair and groaning in frustration, I realised what a sticky spot I had gotten myself into. I had no clue even what the entrance to the Headmistress's office looked like.

"Are you lost?"

I whirled around to find myself looking at a tall boy with messy black hair and warm brown eyes. My eyes instantly recognised the red and gold emblem on his robes. A Gryffindor. Oh my god. Relief washed over me like a tsunami.

"Yes!" I cried, the relief practically making me weak at the knees. "Oh my god, you have no idea how glad I am to see you! Yes, I am so lost, and I really need your help." I staggered over to him oh-so-gracefully. "I'm trying to find Minerva McGonagall's office; she's the Head Mistress, yes?"

"Uh… yeah, she is…" the boy ran his hand through his hair, his face slightly bemused – I felt rather sorry for him, having to deal with someone as hysterical as yours truly. But at that moment I was in desperate need of assistance, and hysterical lunatic or not, he had to help me.

"Oh thank Merlin. I need to find her office; do you think you could help me?" I asked, a somewhat desperate plea poorly hidden on my voice.

The boy's mouth twitched. "Yeah, sure," he said, chuckling. He cocked his head to the corridor behind him, "This way."

Gratitude practically oozing out of my skin, I followed him.

"So…" the boy said, "New student, eh?"

I looked at him weakly. Did I radiate newbie-ness? Wonderful. Just spectacular.

"Is it that obvious?" I asked with a barely suppressed sigh.

He stopped abruptly to look at me, and narrowed his eyes and pursed his lips in exaggerated examination. I smiled at his dramatics.

"Well…" he said, tapping his chin in mock-thoughtfulness, "You do have that bizarre thing on your face – "

At this, my smile vanished. My hands jumped, panicked, to my face. "What?" I cried. "What's wrong with my face?" I sped to the nearest window, examining my reflection with dread.

The boy laughed. "I'm joking, I'm joking!" he said quickly, with a chortle. He grabbed my wrist and dragged me away from the window. I must have still looked panicked because he shot me one look and rolled his eyes. "I was only joking, you can calm down now." Under his breath, he added, "Worse than Moaning Myrtle." Not that I knew who that was. Or cared, for that matter.

It took a few breaths before I could calm down. A joke, huh? Oh ha bloody ha.

"Never," I mumbled, glaring, "make jokes about my face."

He looked like he was going to laugh again. "Why, what's the matter? You Miss Witch Weekly or something?"

Pfft. Did I look like a Miss Witch Weekly to you?

"My face has a tendency to embarrass me. Much like my hair. They are both rather sensitive spots for me so do me a favour and do not insult either."

This time, he looked mildly surprised. "There's nothing wrong with your face."

"You haven't seen it at its worst," I muttered darkly.

"And your hair is nice." He examined said hair with slightly curious expression.

"You haven't seen _that_ at its worst either."

"Can't be much worse than this, can it?" he asked with a smile, gesturing to his own head.

"By ten times," I assured him. Besides, he had been blessed with hair that was messy, but looked _good_. The same could not be said for mine.

He snorted, but did not say anything further on the matter. I eyed him warily.

"If it's not my face, then what is it?"

I thought I heard a mere trace of a sigh. I huffed. So what if I was slightly sarcastically retarded? I was in a panic! That gave me some right of retarded-ness, no?

"Your robes are plain black."

Oh.

Seeing the look on my face, he added an "Obvious, no?" with a grin.

Well _yes_, it was, now that he had mentioned it. "Ah yes of course," I said lamely, having nothing else. I could almost feel his smile, without having to look.

"So, Miss Witch Weekly, now that I know all these trivial yet confusing facts about yourself, do you think you could do me the honour of a simpler endeavour?"

I narrowed my eyes at him. "Depends what it is…"

He rolled his eyes, but grinned. "Such a cautious one," he said with a hint of patronization. I opened my mouth to retort, but he cut across me. "No need to get worked up, Myrtle. I was referring to your name."

"Oh…" I reddened slightly.

Stupid Val.

I reached out my hand. "Valerie Walker," I said, with my brightest smile, hoping he'd overlook my embarrassing moment.

He chuckled quietly, but took my hand nonetheless. "James," he said.

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**HAHA OUI OUI GUYS, ITS EVERYONE'S FAVOURITE, JAMES POTTER II **

**Anyway, if you've read 'till here, then you're doing extremely well, so I thank you.**

**Special thanks to Olive and Isabel, because they helped correct this, which is I'm sure a BLOODY ANNOYING feat, so kudos to them for being so patient with me :D And thanks to all that reviewed; I felt guilty, but happy at the same time :D I SHALL TRY TO UPLOAD THE NEXT ONE ASAP.**

**Many thanks, **

**xxx K**


	3. Red, Brown and Brooms

**RIGHT**

**I'm SO SO SO SORRY FOR BEING SO SLOW. PLEASE FORGIVE ME. I SUCK. I THINK WE'VE ALL ESTABLISHED THIS. THANK YOU ALL FOR WAITING. AND BEING AWESOME. I LOVE YOU ALL.**

**xxx K.**

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CHAPTER THREE – Red, Brown, and Brooms

"And I believe this is you, Red." James stopped at an ornate door, in front of which was stationed a stone gargoyle.

"Thanks," I said, slightly breathlessly, smiling. Then I paused. "Wait, what did you just call me?"

I expected him to look sheepish. He didn't. We really were not going to get along were we?

"What, you never got called that?" he grinned. "With hair that colour?"

With hair what colour? What was this boy on about? My hair –

Oh no he did not.

"My hair isn't red!" I cried. I picked up a few strands to examine them. "My hair is not red!" I repeated. He raised an amused eyebrow.

"It isn't!" I insisted. "Look!" I waved the strands in front of his face. "It's brown! Brown!"

...with a few hints of red. Here and there. BUT IT WAS STILL BROWN.

He caught the strands in between his fingers and chuckled. "Sorry, Myrtle, but that's red."

"Brown."

"Red."

"Brown."

"It's both."

"Brown and red are very different colours. It cannot possibly be both."

"Then it's red."

"Then it's brown."

"Red."

"Reddish brown!"

"Dark red."

"Chestnut." I said firmly. That was as far as I was willing to compromise.

He pressed his lips together in an effort to control his laughing. "You better get going. McGonagall's waiting for you."

I huffed and turned on my heels.

Insert frown and pause here.

"Wait..." I said slowly, momentarily forgetting my battle-for-hair-justice issue. "How do I get in?" I could hardly squeeze past the gargoyle, and I couldn't see any door handle.

"You need a password."

Seriously?

"I don't know the password!" I shrieked hysterically. I stared at the gargoyle and it stared back. This was one evil gargoyle.

James broke me out of my staring competition with the gargoyle with a little throat-clearing.

"Only the Head Boy and Girl are supposed to know the password. But... it's 'Fizzing Whizzbee," he said with a slow smile.

"You cannot possibly be Head Boy, so I'm not even going to ask how you know that."

He grinned. "Good. Don't." He ran his hand through his hair. "Well, good luck in there, Myrtle, can't wait to see where you land. You might even be in my house." He winked.

I tried to be nonchalant as possible with my scoffing reply of: "See you there."

He headed down the corridor, strolling easily. At the end, he turned around and waved. "Bye Red, I'll see you around."

"It's chestnut!" I called after him. But he was already gone.

Fine. But this was far from over, buddy. I turned around. "Fizzing Whizzbee."

The gargoyle leapt aside. I felt a bizarre urge to twiddle my fingers and do some cackling as I made my way happily up the stairs. Suck on that, gargoyle.

"Good evening, Miss Walker."

Professor McGonagall was a thin woman with greying hair, pulled back into a tight bun. She had a stern face, but smiled at me when I walked into the room.

"Good evening, Professor." I said with a smile. The room was a sight to behold, littered with an array of bizarre objects, ranging from whirling clocks to flipping magnifying glasses. The walls were covered in paintings – old headmasters and headmistresses, Roxanne had told me, nothing interesting – but when I noticed the painting stationed behind McGonagall, I squeaked.

I mean, I gasped quietly like a proper lady.

"Mr Dumbledore!" I bowed clumsily, but knew I had to pay my respects to _this_particular headmaster, even if I completely disregarded the rest.

Albus Dumbledore smiled at me. "Welcome, Miss Walker."

"Please, take a seat." McGonagall gestured to the chair in front of her. I sat down, still a little flustered.

"Welcome to Hogwarts, Valerie. How was the train ride here? I trust you made some friends? Roxanne Weasley, I believe?"

This surprised me. "Yes," I said, unsure how she could have known.

"A good choice, Miss Walker, Roxanne will lead you in the right direction." She smiled. "Now, I'm sure, you are anxious to find out what house you will be in." She stood from her seat and took something off the shelf to her left.

Ahh, enter the menacing hat.

I bit my lip as she gently lowered the hat onto my head. My eyes stared fixedly at that bit of black hat intruding on the edge of my vision. I could almost feel my brain trying to burn it off with my eyes. My god, I hope it doesn't bite.

_Mm... very cautious._

Right. So I knew that the hat was going to start talking into my head, but still, it gave me a hell of a fright. I MEAN WHAT KIND OF HAT TALKS?

_One that was enchanted by one of the greatest wizard's of all time – Godric Gryffindor, one of the four –_

_Yeah, yeah, cut the re-bop. Just sort me. Preferably painlessly._

I felt like kind of a retard while I thought it, but I'd been told that it could read my mind, and so preferred to just get the worst over with.

It didn't reply for a second. Awkward, I was pretty rude, wasn't I? Sighing, I added slightly reluctantly: _Please._

It, however, ignored. Went on going like it hadn't heard me. How rude.

_I see. A quick-mind that you actually use. Rare, if you ask me, that a good brain is actually utilised amongst you younger generations. Though I rarely have the chance to examine the minds of older children. Hm, unique learning methods, not traditional. Hufflepuff, perhaps?_

Excuse me, hat? Are you calling me stupid?

_I have no idea where you have drawn that conclusion from. 'Unique' and 'stupid' are not so synonymous. Though the high levels of scepticism are the makings of a fine critic. Perhaps Ravenclaw, then? Of course, among the deeper workings of the mind –_

Now why would you train a hat to talk like that?

– _there are other factors to be considered. Strong potential, definitely, though –_

I vaguely wondered to myself where Godric Gryffindor acquired the skills to make this hat so bloody talkative.

– _need for attention –_

Wait WHAT? What needs attention? Rewind thy speech oh crinkly piece of felt! What needs attention? Am I behind? Do I NEED BRAINPOWER BOOSTERS TO KEEP UP WITH MY FELLOWS? Oh god, I knew this was a bad idea – wait, unless… Oh my god. This hat thinks I'm an attention whore! I have never been an attention seeker in my life! I am thoroughly insulted! How dare you, hat! Don't think that I won't –

"GRYFFINDOR!"

This was actually yelled out aloud and the sound was so sudden that I may or may not have fallen off the stool. Merlin – second time in about 5 minutes the hat has gotten the better of me. I may have developed an irrational fear of hats. Especially ones charmed by great wizards.

Who is apparently the founder of my new house.

"Congratulations, Miss Walker!" Professor McGonagall beamed at me as she took the hat – thank bloody god; another second and I might have gone into cardiac arrest – from my head.

"I'm sure Gryffindor will be very welcoming of you. And with Miss Weasley too! How fortunate for you. Gryffindor really is a great house – I'm sure you will enjoy yourself. I, myself, was actually Head of Gryffindor for a period of time, and it really was – "

She seemed to catch herself rambling, and cleared her throat.

"Well," she began with a smile, "I have here, a letter from Madame Rousseau – your head of Quidditch at Beauxbatons, I believe? – and she tells me that you are a very capable player, Miss Walker – "

Naw, shucks, Madame, you shouldn't have.

McGonagall peers closer at the page. " – and… aero-gymnastics too! That is very impressive, Miss Walker. I wonder; would you perhaps be interested in joining Gryffindor Quidditch team?"

Now let me just say one thing. Quidditch is my life. I love my broom. Nothing came between me and my Storm Streaker 220. We are in an open affair and proud of it. I spend more time in the air that on the ground. My life without Quidditch would be lifeless. Wow, I am the meaning of poetic. And I realise that that was approximately 7 things but I felt it was necessary for me to express my underlying love for the sport.

Now, how to express this love to McGonagall without sounding like a complete broomstick pervert?

"I would love to."

Ah! Am I not the epitome of genius?

"Wonderful! Tryouts will be soon, I'm sure. Every team always wants to get cracking as soon as possible, to sneak that extra bit of training in."

Here, the door opened.

A boy with olive skin and dark hair stepped through the door. I would also like to add that he may or may not have been rather devilishly good-looking and I took a small mental moment to ogle at him. However, he also bore a bizarre resemblance to –

"Ah, Weasley! Perfect timing – "

Yeah… that one…

"Walker, this is Fred Weasley, Head Boy. He also is in Gryffindor, and as a matter of fact is Captain of the Gryffindor Quidditch team. Unfortunately the Head Girl is unable to join us today. But I'm sure you will meet her soon – Ciel Demarr of Slytherin. Weasley, this is Valerie Walker, the transfer student."

Fred Weasley smiled at me and reached out his hand for me to shake.

"Nice to meet you," he said pleasantly and with perfect Head Boy composure. "Professor McGonagall tells me that you are a very skilled Quidditch player. Perhaps you would be interested in joining the Quidditch team?"

Second time someone's asked me that ridiculous question in 2 minutes.

Thankfully I didn't have to retell my bizarre broomstick-loving tendencies.

"I've already asked, Weasley, and she's agreed to try out. I myself and rather excited to see these talents of yours, Walker – Madame Rousseau spoke very highly of you."

She stood from her seat and walked over to the door.

"Now, follow me, I think it's time you see your dormitory."

She made her way out the door. Fred Weasley and I had an awkward moment where we both stepped to the door and then stopped to let the other through. He laughed, and gestured to the door.

"Ladies first?"

"Thanks," I said with a smile, before making my way through.

"So," Fred began, when we were both outside, following McGonagall through the corridors. "I hear you've already met my sister."

I nodded. "I have. She's great." She really was. Roxanne and I were going to be great friends. I could feel it already.

He smiled. "That's a relief, because she adores you. She's said a range of things about you – though some perhaps I shouldn't say, in case you think she's some creepy stalker."

I laughed and couldn't help but feel a little flattered at that. I was making friends! My dearest mother would be SO PROUD.

"That's nice to know, I guess."

Oh yes that's me. Queen Suave of Suaviland.

McGonagall finally stopped at a large portrait of an even larger woman.

"This here, Walker, is the entrance to the Gryffindor dormitories. The password at current is _mandragora_. It will change from time to time, so make sure you keep up to date. Now, shall we?"

The portrait door swung open and McGonagall led me through the portrait hole into a large round room, completely scarlet and gold.

"Attention Gryffindors!" She clapped her hands, and everyone in the common room turned to look at her.

Or maybe, you know, me.

"This is Valerie Walker. She is a transfer student from Beauxbaton's Academy of Magic, and will now be joining your house. I hope you will all make her feel very welcome."

There was a general murmur of interest through the room. I think she glared at a couple, because there were a few shrinking back at her gaze. At least, I hoped she was glaring. I hope they weren't shrinking because I was so horrifyingly ugly to look at.

God, does wonders for self-esteem does it not?

When she left, there was silence in the room, and I began to panic. What do I do now?

Fortunately for me, Also-Quidditch-Captain-And-Somewhat-Attractive Head Boy came to my rescue.

"Come on, guys, surely saying hello isn't that hard?" He clapped a hand onto my shoulder and was about to make introductions, when a scream interrupted him. And then, in a blur of black hair, I was suffocating.

"Oh my god, I knew it! I knew you'd be in Gryffindor! Yay, I'm so happy!"

So was I, but I was in no fit to say so, since she was, you know, strangling me.

"Rox-anne – " I began to say – or choke – but she released me. I subtly tried to massage my neck where I think she'd snapped it.

"Come on! Let me introduce you to some people!"

The rest of the night was a bit of a blur, consisting of mainly Roxanne dragging me around to all for corners of the tower, introducing me to everyone in sight. The ones I mainly remembered were Zephyr Varnes, Jane Thomas, and Emma Goldstein, who were apparently the other girls in my dormitory.

I saw Albus and Rose once or twice – mainly they were chuckling at Roxanne's man-handling of me.

Our dorm was messy, with clothes strewn everywhere, as well as books, hairbrushes and other implements used for beautifying. But it was great. Really, so homey and it made me smile.

Roxanne promptly began to pull out stacks and stacks of chocolate and sweets from beneath her bed.

When I asked her what it was for, she gave me a scandalised look and said "We finally have a full dorm. This merits for a party."

My first night at Hogwarts was one full of eating, no-sleeping, and tales and gossip and giggles with my fellow sixth-year girls.

I think I was going to like it here.


	4. Walker 1, Weasley 0

**AH HA. OMG I THINK THIS MAY BE A RECORD FOR ME. I THINK THAT IS THE FASTEST I HAVE EVER UPDATED FOR ME. AREN'T YOU ALL PROUD OF ME? :D**

**...although, this probably means a longer wait to the next chapter BUT STILL, LET US HANG IN THE MOMENT.**

**Anyway, I would just like to make a special mention to Virginia-Revel, a very special reviewer of mine who always writes the best reviews that make me crack up and smile. Thanks for sticking with the story and making me feel loved, and you can all thank her, because the reason this chapter is up so quick is because she requested it up for her birthday. So here it is :) HAPPY BIRTHDAY VIRGINIA-REVEL**

**I LOVE YOU ALL FOR STICKING WITH MY SLACKINESS AND MY STORY. THANK YOU**

**xxx K**

**P.S I see that everyone has agreed with James and all think Val has red hair... alas, we mustn't always trust James XD (Translation: I haven't decided her exact hair colour yet, but will let you know when it's official ;D)**

* * *

CHAPTER FOUR – Walker 1, Weasley 0

I woke at the crack of dawn. My eyes felt heavy, and I felt bloated from all the chocolate and snacks from the previous night. Groaning, I rolled over in my bed, burying my face into my pillow, begging sleep to overcome me again.

Ten minutes later, however, I found I was still – though droopy-eyed and lethargic – very much awake.

Why was it that nothing ever worked for me?

After another twenty minutes or so of futile sleeping efforts, I dragged myself out of my bed. Lying exhausted in bed, yet not being able to sleep, in my opinion, was the worst feeling. I was a person of extremes. If I couldn't sleep, then I would go wake myself up, in the most adrenaline-rushing way.

I had no idea where I was to find said adrenaline rush at six o'clock in the morning, but I got dressed nonetheless, sluggishly pulling on my robes, my eyes drooping sporadically. As I headed to the door, something caught my eye beside my trunk. Something long and sleek, with a bundle of twigs bound together neatly at the end. Ah ha.

Source of adrenaline located.

Automatically, I reached for my broom and left Gryffindor Tower.

It was cold out. I wasn't sure what I was expecting at this hour, but it came as a bit of a surprise. However, the cool wind felt amazing against my face, and I closed my eyes.

Ahh.

This was exactly what I needed right now.

The walk down to the Quidditch pitch was an experience of its own. Frost clung to the windows of the castle, and small icicles rimmed the edges of the leaves on the trees. The sun had started to rise, bathing the school in its orange glow. The light bounced off the small crystals of ice, and the whole grounds seemed to sparkle.

This must be Hogwarts at its best.

Hogwarts' Quidditch pitch was just as beautiful. I breathed in deeply, sucking up as much of the fresh morning air that I could, drawing it into my lungs. Someone had once told me that smell was the strongest sense linked to memory – apparently babies can identify their mothers by their smell before they could even see, although admittedly, I may not have really wanted to recognise mine, had I known she would turn out to be a CAPITALS speaking Grindylow…

I could smell the fresh grass, the wet canvas of the stands, the damp wood; this was the smell of Quidditch at Hogwarts. It was different to Beauxbatons entirely, but from now on, this would be the smell of Quidditch. I wanted to remember this scent.

But I could dwell on that later. Right now, I just wanted to get on my broom and give myself the biggest wake-up call of a lifetime.

I swung my leg over my Streaker, and kicked off.

It was just as thrilling as it had always been. The wind was so cold it seemed to cut at my face – actually I think there may have been a few icicles hanging in the air – but it was good.

I no longer felt tired. My eyes were wide open and an exhilarated laugh burst forth from my lips. It echoed across the stands, much louder than I thought it would be, and excitement bubbled in my stomach at the thought that I was the only one awake in the whole castle.

I circled the stands, marvelling at the grounds below me; from this height, the castle looked an even more astonishing sight.

A sudden thought popped into my mind. It was crazy, but I was so high on adrenaline that it didn't seem too bad of an idea. Grinning, I turned my broom upwards and shot, like a rocket, straight for the heavens. The sky was clear, not a single cloud in sight. I watched myself gain altitude with shocking speed.

And then, I jolted to a sudden halt in sky. There was utter silence for a moment, except for my heaving breaths, and then, without warning, I tilted and started free-falling.

I screamed. The sound seemed to bounce off the grounds and it rang through the air like a cannon blast.

Was I scared? Petrified. But I was feeling just as elated. Terrifying as this was, it was sending adrenaline pumping through my veins and I admit; I enjoyed it. Kind of like a sick pleasure, really.

Um, yeah – shut up.

I swivelled my head. The ground was coming closer now. Gripping my broom tighter in my numb hand, I counted silently in my head.

One... Two... THREE.

I turned mid air, swung my leg over my broom, and soared back up into the sky, just feet before I hit the ground.

That, my friend, was _skill_.

Adios, Death. Maybe some other time.

I laughed again, louder this time, and spun through the air, refraining from making some surely-very-attractive cackling noises that would illustrate my satisfaction. I did loops, flips, handstands; every trick I had ever learnt on my broom suddenly presented themselves forward, and I practiced every one of them in my high, frenzied state. I never really realised how many of them there were until now.

I swung one leg over my broom, so I was riding my Streaker on the side. Then I leaned backwards, hanging from my broom only by my knees.

I cheered at the top of my lungs. My hair flailed below me as I flew in circles in the air. This was one trick that I had never performed without the supervision of Madame Rousseau before, and one that my mother reminded me NEVER EVER EVER to do, as it was HIGHLY DANGEROUS, and I could BREAK MY PRECIOUS BONES INTO ITTY BITTY PIECES.

Breaking the rules felt so good. Apologies, Ma, but I think my PRECIOUS BONES will be fine.

I angled slightly towards the ground, feeling myself getting slowly lower. When I was about ten feet from the grass, I kicked off my broom, did a triple somersault in the air, and landed perfectly on my feet.

… At least, that was what was supposed happened. However, my jelly legs collapsed beneath me and my movie moment was ruined when I face planted right into the dirt.

Ahh well. I suppose crazy moments just weren't complete until you added a little mud to the mixture.

The smell of grass filled my nostrils and I closed my eyes, letting the adrenaline slowly settle down.

Quidditch was so the best sport.

"That was impressive."

My eyes flew open. Completely on instinct, I leapt to my feet, plunged my hands into my robes and within milliseconds had directed my wand straight into the face of the intruder.

What can I say? Adrenaline does weird stuff to you.

The very minimal part of sane brain that I still retained in my head held me back, just enough so that I didn't blast the visitor into a million little pieces.

Good thing, too, as I found myself staring straight into the face of Fred Weasley.

"Whoa, easy there, I'm just looking." He held his hands up in surrender, taking a few steps back. I didn't blame him either; I could only imagine what I looked like after falling three hundred feet out of the sky with mud streaked all over my face.

We stared at each other in silence for a few moments. I would have happily stared him down for an eternity, but it was a little too awkward. And Merlin wasn't the only one who knew how awkwardness and I got along.

"How long were you watching?" I muttered slowly.

He grinned. "Oh not long," he said lightly. "I was impressed by your tricks – ",

I breathed a silent sigh of relief. So that means he didn't see the –

" – but I do admit, I thought you were a goner when you tumbled out of the sky." His mouth twitched, as though he was trying to stop himself from laughing.

Damn.

"Don't worry," he assured me, chuckling, "We all have our crazy urges." He looked to my broom, which was hovering in the air next to me.

"Where did you learn to do all that? Those were some wack stunts you were pulling, Walker. Not something you see every day." His eyes twinkled. I ignored that last jibe, and went straight to answer his first question.

"Beauxbatons offered Aero-Gymnastics. It seemed like fun at the time."

His eyes widened. Whatever he was expecting me to say, I'm guessing that wasn't it. "Aero-Gymnastics? Wow... must come handy in Quidditch, huh?"

I shrugged, "Saved my neck a couple of times."

He laughed. "If only we could all do that. Imagine what our Quidditch team would be like." His eyes unfocused slightly as his thoughts wandered elsewhere. I allowed him exactly five seconds of reminiscence before I broke through his daydreams.

"What are you doing here, anyway?" I bit out, a hint of annoyance in my tone. "Who gets up at six in the morning to go flying?" The second the words left my lips, I blushed, realising my mistake. The stupidity of the statement was emphasized when he raised his eyebrow.

"I couldn't sleep!" I blurted, "I don't like wasting time lying in bed when I can't sleep, okay?" I turned away, muttering obscenities under my breath.

Maybe he came across weird people often, because he smiled again. "Well, you're not the only one." He turned around and bent over. I hadn't realised that he had a trunk behind him until that moment, and lying beside it was, distinctively, his broom. He opened the trunk.

"Sometimes when I can't sleep, I like to get up early for Quidditch practice," he said as he straightened up and turned around to face me again. He was holding his broom in one hand, and in the other, to my surprise, was a Quaffle. Tossing it up and down in his hand, he grinned wickedly at me.

"Care to join me?" He winked as he swung his leg over his broom and kicked off the ground. I merely stared at him as he flew around in the air. He was an excellent flier.

"Hey Walker!" he called out, hovering above me. "You've got, ah… a little something on your face!" He laughed loudly at my – surely very attractive – shocked expression, and whirled around, circling the stands.

Oh, this meant war.

"Weasley!" I yelled, as I kicked off the ground.

"Yes?" he sang, smiling innocently at me as he whirled around.

The expression he sported when my mud ball hit him straight in the face was utterly priceless.

"I'm not the only one with stuff on my face now, eh, pretty boy!" I cackled evilly as I soared past him, circling the goals.

He chased after me and I laughed as he tried, but failed, to keep up. With no mud on hand, he raised his arm and pelted the Quaffle right at me. I swivelled in a smooth 360 and, using the end of my broom, knocked it straight through the centre hoop.

"Score!" I bellowed. "Walker one, Weasley ZERO!" I cheered.

If I expected Fred to laugh lightly and take it like the gentleman he seemed, he proved me wrong in the next second. I had turned away from him, soaring for the opposite posts, cackling like the crazy maniac I was. Then, something collided with the back of my head making me almost fall off my broom. Something wet, gooey and sludgey.

I whirled around; Fred was doubled over on his broom in laughter, and the hand that was clutching his broom was covered in mud.

"Cheap shot!" I screeched. "Cheap shot! That is foul play, Weasley! FOUL PLAY!"

"Hey, I was only getting you back. Now we're ev – "

But I didn't let him finish and bombed him with yet another mud ball to the face.

"Bullseye, once again! What's that, Weasley? Walker two, Weasley – "

I closed my mouth just in time before the mud slapped me in the face.

"I believe it's two-all, Walker!" he hollered.

"Oh you are so – "

And that was how we both turned up at breakfast, an hour later.

"What happened to _you_?" Roxanne's eyes widened as she took in my mud-soaked self. Her eyes wandered and lingered on her equally as muddy brother that stood next to me.

"Mud fight." I muttered lamely, trying not to laugh.

"I gathered that. I believe my question was more an inquiry as to why."

"Your sore-loser of a brother intruded in on my Quidditch practice." I shot the afore-mentioned loser a look of warning. Mention the stunts and die, Weasley.

But of course he ignored my threats.

"Actually, I saved your adrenaline junkie of a friend from killing herself."

Adrenaline junkie? ADRENALINE JUNKIE?

"You what?" Roxanne spluttered, her eyebrows disappearing into her hair.

"I did nothing of the sort!" I retorted huffily. "I was just – "

I wanted to dig myself into a hole when I realised that there was no way to describe what I was doing without having it fall under "adrenaline junkie" category. And from a completely non-adrenaline junkie perspective, it would sound like exactly that.

Only when Fred said it, it sounded idiotic.

"It wasn't like that!" I choked, but my voice was drowned out by Fred and Roxanne's combined loud guffaws.

Stupid Weasleys.

I turned and tried to sit down with as much dignity as I could, whacking the back of Fred's head during the process. He choked mid-laugh and I grinned.

I made to pick up my fork, but my hands were caked with mud. I found, by the help of a nearby spoon, that my face was in a similar condition. I tried to wipe some of the mud away from my face, but all it ended up doing was smear it everywhere. Cringing, I flicked some of it away from me.

"Hey! Keep your mud away from my food!" Roxanne said thickly through a mouthful of chocolate coated waffles.

Sighing, I pulled out my wand and pointed it at my face. "_Scourgify,_" I muttered.

Ahh, the joys of having a clean face. I proceeded to do my hands. And my legs. And my robes. Oh god, we may have just dug up the entire Quidditch Pitch.

I sniffed and grimaced. Even though there was no more mud, I would still need to take a shower.

Fred, seeing what I was doing, followed suit. I glared at him, and my hand twitched towards my cup. Surely, a little pumpkin juice wouldn't hurt him? But I was hungry, and I loved my clean skin far too much to have another round of eggs and jam lathered over it. It could only stand so much violation in one morning, and I'm sure jam does nothing for your pores…

Fred instantly noticed my hand that was oh-so-subtly inching towards my glass and caught my eye. He grinned and he scooped up a bit of the cream he was spreading on his scone in a silver spoon, before tilting it and letting it drop back into the bowl with a plop. His eye glinted.

Sighing, I pull my hand away from the glass. I didn't really want cream on my face. He beamed idiotically and relinquished his ammunition, placing the silver spoon back into its dish, before tucking into his carefully prepared scones.

Somewhat sulkily, I grabbed myself a piece of toast and started buttering it with a bizarre sort of ferociousness. Roxanne gave me a side-long look from behind her waffles. I got a hint of "Why is this crazy woman butchering that piece of toast?" – hmph, well who knows? I myself have never really put much trust into toast before. I'm sure many of my burnt tastebuds can vouch for me, in fact –

Oh lookie here! A familiar face!

Oh yes, I definitely remember that face.

Mr You-Have-Red-Hair-and-Will-Not-Let-It-Go-Or-Agree-With-Your-Chestnut-Compromise was talking to a boy I vaguely recognised from the night before – Zack Boot, I think – as he strolled into the hall, but as they turned to walk along the table he spotted me in the middle of my toast abuse.

He stopped – then positively started beaming like a stunned idiot. I could hear his laugh from my seat as he waved. I waved my butter knife briefly before shoving the toast into my mouth.

In an elegant manner, of course.

"You know James?" Roxanne asked me, raising her eyebrows.

I leaned over to steal half a waffle – "Hey!" – before answering. "I bumped into him yesterday on the way to McGonagall's. Got lost."

"You got lost?"

I shrugged, but glared at her, daring her to comment. She pressed her lips together, and I could hear the snigger building up in her throat.

I sniffed, turning away defiantly. Hmph. I would not waste time with idiots who didn't appreciate my presence – though I might make an exception for those with brilliant waffles…

"Do you mind, Valerie Walker?" Roxanne screeched, pulling her plate possessively towards her. I grinned innocently at her – chocolate waffles really were so very good, I might make a permanent switch from now on –

"Red! How nice to see you here!"

His hand slammed – there really was no other word for it – down onto my shoulder with incredible force. Which was all good… if I didn't have half-masticated waffle in my mouth, which promptly lodged itself down the wrong pipe.

"JAMES! SHE WAS EATING!" Roxanne shrieked. She started banging my back, which really did nothing to help. I have no idea why people do that – banging them on the back just creates not only an exceedingly uncomfortable oesophagus, but also a very sore back.

I tried swatting her hand away, but she mistook my flailing arms as a signal of panic and got James to start bashing too. Merlin, help me. If I wasn't hacking up a lung, I would have punched them both.

"Oi! That hurt! Stick to your half of her back!"

"I _am_ on my half, you were the one to intruded in on my - !"

"No,_this_ here – "

Ahem, excuse me, hello? I may or may not be DYING over here. This is not the time to be DIVVYING UP MY BODY PARTS.

Finally, Fred pulled out his wand and directed it at me, muttering something.

Oh my Merlin. I could breathe. I wheezed dramatically as James peered down at me.

Stupid jerk.

He grinned at my death glare.

"Looks like you're okay then, Red. Although…" He picked up a strand of my hair and examined it. "… should I really be calling you that today?"

I glanced behind me. Crap, forgot to do the hair.

"Ah there's the colour I was looking for." He grinned wickedly as I tucked my wand away again.

"Roxanne, pass the waffles."


	5. French Tarts

**Oh my god. I think there is something wrong with me. I actually do not understand how this has happened. Two days. TWO DAYS ago was my last update. My jaw has dislocated itself from the rest of my face. I have posted Chapter 5 before some people have even had the chance to read Chapter 4! WHAT IS THIS MADNESS.**

**But unfortunately, you cannot get used to this. Because I am actually INCREDIBLY busy, and I will probably not be able to update for ages. I'M SORRYSORRYSORRY (unless, of course, this bizarre illness of mine takes effect once again...)**

**Now, I am proud to say that I have ****(attempted to) ****made a few people happy with this chapter. _Virginia-Revel_ requested more of Val's mum, and _birchermuesli_ requested some ValxJames action, and though it's a little too early in the story for that, there is a little moment at the end that I've chucked in just for you, Chan :P**

**I LOVE YOU ALL PLEASE BEAR WITH ME AND THANK YOU FOR READING THIS.**

**xxx K**

* * *

CHAPTER FIVE – French Tarts

_Dear Vallie,_

_SURELY you must be at Hogwarts already – WHY HAVEN'T TO WRITTEN TO ME YET? Did something go wrong on train? What's happen? HAVE YOU BEEN KIDNAPPED? Oh goodness, I certainly hope not, imagine what would happen to that kidnapper of yours… poor thing – _

I get kidnapped, and she fears for the life of my kidnapper? Charming.

– _and I would rather NOT see you in Azkaban, IF you don't mind, because then you won't get the chance to try this delectable French tart that I'm eating right now!_

Oh, you find it bizarre that the only reason why she wants me out of Azkaban is to try a French tart? I assure you there have been worse reasons.

_Oh yes! So I have flown back to France briefly, because I forgot something VERY VERY IMPORTANT – that STUNNING hair straightener that we bought in Toulouse that time, you remember? _

That's one of them. At least the tart is edible. Who needs a hair straightener? Are you a witch or what, woman!

_I'm going to go fetch it in an hour, after my coffee. I'll be back in England tomorrow though; I'm starting my very first report soon! And… I'm not supposed to tell anyone this but something VERY VERY EXCITING is going to happen at Hogwarts soon! _

I'm not always sure that my mother's definition of VERY VERY EXCITING and mine are so synonymous. After all, her VERY VERY IMPORTANT objects include hair straighteners and French tarts.

_And I'm writing my first report on it! I might see you there, darling, GET EXCITED! _

_YOU WRITE BACK TO ME RIGHT NOW, YOUNG LADY and tell me EVERYTHING. Are you being good? Oh, WHAT HOUSE ARE YOU IN? Have you made LOTS AND LOTS OF FRIENDS? Who? ANY GOOD-LOOKING ONES?_

Only my mother would think that was important enough to go on the list.

_Tell me ALL about them, sweetheart, though I DO hope you're being safe!_

!

E-EXCUSE ME?

_Alright, I have to go! Ta ta, beautiful, I love you and I'll see you soon!_

_xxx Mum_

Oh my Merlin. I was mortified. I cannot _believe_ she just said that.

I dropped the letter briefly and looked at the photograph she'd included. My mother was standing on a deck by the water front, waving at the camera. I recognised the background – it was our favourite café in Lyon. She had a large sunhat and overlarge sunglasses on, but even so…

I peered closer.

Yep, there was no doubt about it. She'd charmed her hair blue. Merlin help me.

A sudden screeching noise scared the absolute bejeezums out of me.

I groaned – could they not just get along? I leapt out of bed and scooped as many owl pellets back into the bowl as I could, then made to go separate the two squawking birds that were trying to rip out eachothers' feathers.

"Stop, stop, STOP!" I yelled as Sia's talons scratched me. Finally, I shouted: "_Protego!"_

Who knew that I would one day have to resort to magic to separate owls.

I picked Sia up off the floor and placed her in Caspy's cage. I'd never keep Caspy in his cage, but circumstances were different for my mother's owl – I knew that the fluffy white owl was not really as innocent as she looked, and could not be trusted to roam the dorm. Sia glared balefully at me as I shut the door.

"Sorry, Sia, but I'll let you out after I've finished the letter."

Caspy seemed mighty pleased that I didn't lock him away, but as he made his way over to taunt Sia with his owlish methods, I clicked my tongue. "Nuh uh, mister, don't even think about it. You come here."

Caspy fluttered his tawny wings happily, landing beside me as I sat down on my bed, pulling out a piece of parchment.

_Dear Mum,_

_I'm fine. Cool it, woman. I was just very busy last night and didn't have time to write, sorry._

_Of course I haven't been kidnapped, and how could you even suggest that I would do such a thing to my poor kidnapper? I mean, a life without French tarts – my, Azkaban sounds a terrible place._

_Um, isn't that the hair straightener that you decided you didn't need and gave to Mabel?_

_Your first report? Congratulations! That's great, I'll be looking out for your articles. _

_Oh really? Something exciting, hey? Hm, I can't guess right now, but I'll go info-hunting later and I'll let you know when I know! Unless you want to tell me… _

_Yes, mum, I haven't picked any fights yet, or pranked anyone, so it's all good. I'm in Gryffindor! Which is really great, because surprisingly, I have made some friends, and you'll never believe this – I'm friends with Roxanne Weasley! Yes, that Weasley, Mum. And I've also met Rose Weasley, and Albus Potter and they're so nice. I also met the Head Boy, Fred Weasley, Roxanne's brother, and yeah… basically I'm just surrounded by a lot of Weasleys at the moment. The girls in my dorm are really great, and they seem to like me well enough._

_I refuse to make a comment about that last statement. Shame on you._

_For future reference, I think it's best if you don't use Sia. She tried to rip out Caspy's eyes again, and took off half the skin on my arm in the process. Perhaps one of the Daily Prophet owls would be a better choice. _

_I love you too; look forward to seeing you at this VERY VERY EXCITING event._

_Val_

As I folded the parchment up and tucked it away in an envelope, I gave Caspy a stern look. "You, stay right where you are. Don't even think of moving."

Caspy blinked innocently at me, but did not move from his spot on my bed. I walked over to the cage, where Sia was clicking her beak furiously.

She flew out as soon as the door opened, but I caught her before she could charge at Caspy.

"Not so fast, Missy, you are sending this." I carried her off to the window. She nipped my thumb angrily before gripping the letter and launching out into the sky. Stupid, temperamental bird.

I straightened my skirt – ahh the uniform here was so much more comfortable than Beauxbatons, those stupid skin-tight silk things – and threw my robes around my shoulders, avoiding my freshly washed, no-longer-smelling-like-mud hair. I picked up my bag, stopping briefly by my bed. First day of classes, here I come.

"Bye Caspy," I muttered, kissing his feathery head. He hooted affectionately as I left the dorm.

My first lesson of the day was Transfiguration – Roxanne had shown me where the classroom was so that she wouldn't have to wait for me to finish my shower, before returning to the Great Hall to finish her breakfast.

I think she was making up for the waffles I'd eaten.

I was nervous and jittery. Oh god – classes. I wondered what it'd be like. Would I be behind? Would the teachers like me? Did they teach the same stuff at Hogwarts? Would I need a tutor? Oh my god, would I understand _anything at all? _WHAT IF –

"God, are you okay?"

Ow.

Ow.

Ow.

I cradled my arm as I picked myself off the floor.

Ow.

Lesson number one for the day: Pay attention when walking.

Ow.

My books were scattered everywhere. Sighing, I reached into my robes for my wand. Ow.

"Here, no, I'll get them. _Accio books._"

Oh how nice of you, dear stranger. He even helped me up – by grabbing my arm. OW.

"Oh sorry! Is your arm okay?"

I grumbled to myself, muttering obscenities. Great way to start Val, just great. I dusted off my skirt and did a mental check of the rest of my body parts. All in working order. So it was just this goddamn arm then. I poked it tenderly. Ow.

"Don't do that; you should probably get it checked. I'll take you to Madam Pomfrey."

I sighed and tried to reach for my stuff, but he stopped me – "No it's okay, I've got it" – and I scowled. Then I metaphorically slapped myself round the face when realised that I should thank this stranger. All I had done was mutter insanely to myself while he helped me. How rude.

"Hey, uh, thanks." I said, looking up at him.

Oh my Merlin.

Oh my baby Merlin.

Oh my –

I think I died and went to heaven. I could almost hear the angels singing. _Ahh_…

"That's alright, it's not like I could leave you." And he smiled.

He _smiled_.

Cue the swooning.

_Ahh…_

* * *

"Um, hi."

I glanced at McGonagall, who urged me to continue.

"Um, I'm Valerie Walker. I'm… not particularly interesting, I don't have any particular note-worthy traits – in fact, I spend all my time trying to think of funny witty things to say in preparation for these things, but when I get up, I still have nothing."

I laughed weakly, running a hand through my hair. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed James sitting at the back of the room. He nodded encouragingly at me. Was he patronizing me? I resisted the bizarre and extremely immature urge to pull a face at him.

"Um, that's… all, I guess. I look forward to having a great two years with everyone. Thanks."

McGonagall beamed as the class clapped. I pointedly ignored the loud whooping of a certain obnoxious someone sitting at the back of the room.

"Where have you been!" Roxanne hissed at me as I slipped self-consciously into the seat beside her – why must everyone look at me?

"I had a bit of accident on the way here." With Monsieur Sex-Face. _Mm…_

"What? What happened?"

Professor McGonagall glanced at us briefly over her glasses – it was clear that she would not tolerate talking, even if I was a new student.

"Later." I hissed out of the corner of my mouth, pulling out my parchment.

"So let me get this straight," started Roxanne, after my Monsieur Sex-Face spiel which started the second I was out of my chair. "White blonde hair, grey eyes, tall, and extremely – "

"Sexy?"

She gave me an odd side-long glance before answering with a slow, "Yeah…"

After a pause, she turned to me thoughtfully, with an out-of-place evil smirk that immediately worried me. "You know, that sounds a lot like my – "

"Hello ladies."

Oh Merlin, not you again.

"Sup James." Roxanne spoke without even turning. He hooked an arm over each of us, forcing himself between us.

"Not going to greet me, Myrtle?"

"Hello, you."

"Charming, love. How did you find that class?"

"Roxanne! James!"

Someone interrupted my would-be-witty comeback, and we all looked up.

"Hello, _Professor_," they chorused. The tone surprised me. I glanced at their faces; they even sported the exact identical smirk. Right, now that's just creepy. I think I was missing something here.

"Oh come off it, kids," the professor chuckled. He was round-cheeked and was wearing a pair of extremely worn dragon hide gloves. He wasn't fat or anything, but there was something about his presence that just suggested… _bouncy_. I think we could suffice to say that I liked him immediately.

"How have your holidays been?"

"Good thanks, how's Hannah?"

"She's doing great, thank you, Roxanne."

"Business all good?"

He turned to James and chuckled. "Oh yes, business is running just splendidly." He patted James shoulder. "Look at you; you've grown so much. Becoming quite a strapping young lad aren't you?"

"Thanks, Nevs, so are you." The three of them cracked up simultaneously.

Now I really felt out of it.

Finally, when the laughter ceased, the professor turned to me with a big grin. "Now who is this lovely young lady you have here?"

"This is Valerie Walker; she's the transfer student, remember? I think McGonagall told you."

His eyes widened. "Oh yes, I remember! And you're in my house too! It's fantastic to meet you, my dear." He pulled of the dragon hide gloves and tucked them into his belt before wringing both my hands in earnest.

"It's great to meet you too, um, Professor…?"

"Longbottom," he said with a beam, "Neville Longbottom. I teach Herbology, and I'm also the Head of Gryffindor House."

"Neville Longbottom?"

_The_ Neville Longbottom? Oh my Merlin. "It's an honour to meet you, Sir!"

"Same to you, Valerie. I'm glad you made friends with these two," – he gestured to Roxanne and James – "They really are such good kids."

"Shucks, Nevvy, don't make us blush." James grinned. Professor Longbottom ruffled his hair playfully.

"Alright, I best be off. I'm sure I'll be seeing you around, Valerie, if you hang with out with this bunch." He smiled happily, and disappeared down the corridor.

"Good old Neville," said James fondly, as we walked. When we reached the end of the corridor, he straightened.

"Balls," he muttered, feeling around in his pocket, before groaning in exasperation.

"Ah, they're not here." He looked back between Roxanne and myself. "Well then, looks like we must part ways here; I'll see you two at the next class yeah?"

He squeezed his arms, headlocking us both. Roxanne elbowed him in the ribs at the exactly time as I did and I smirked at the sound of all the air leaving his lungs.

"That hurt," he pouted, massaging his ribcage.

"Yeah, it did," I agreed, massaging my neck.

"Oh grow some balls, James," said Roxanne when he continued whining, laughing playfully at his scandalised expression.

"I have balls!" he spluttered indignantly, his face reddening.

"But I thought you just said they were missing," I said, with an expression of mock-thoughtfulness. Roxanne and I cracked up together with James looking mortified between us.

"Now, this is just horrid, ladies. I'm going to leave before either of you can question my masculinity further." Seeing the look on my face, he added, "My extremely _masculine_ masculinity, thank you very much."

"Said with such strong conviction; I'm proud." Roxanne placed a fist to her heart.

"Right, you asked for it." He took his arm from around my shoulder and started tickling Roxanne. She went down immediately started shrieking like hell, screaming and kicking.

"And as for _you_." He released a very relieved Roxanne after a few moments and twirled to face me. I started backing away. Oh no. There was no way in Merlin's hairy pants that he was going anywhere near my stomach.

He charged at me, and I panicked, running in the opposite direction, but I had barely taken three steps when I felt his arms closing around me like a vice. I squeezed my eyes shut, and braced myself.

I would not be responsible for any injuries he sustained if he decided to proceed.

But I felt no hands assaulting my ticklish mid-riff. Instead – the softest of kisses on my neck.

OI. WATCH IT GARÇON.

"Just kissing it better, Red," he murmured in my ear. I struggled out of his grip and turned to glare at him.

He laughed at my expression before running down the corridor.

"Don't mind my cousin, he's like that," said Roxanne, dusting herself off. "When he can't win, he resorts to dirty play. And he clearly pulled the pimp method on you."

She glanced at my face and grinned. "You look disgusted. I'm so proud, Valerie Walker; we really are going to get along."

He was so dead. Nobody pulls the pimp method on Valerie Walker.

"Wait, wait, wait," I said, "Your cousin? _He's_ your cousin too?" I asked, somewhat flabbergasted.

Roxanne raised an eyebrow. "Yeah, as if you didn't guess? Potter?"

"His name is James Potter?"

"Jesus woman, how can you get along that well with someone and not know their name?"

"I knew his name was James, but not that he was a Potter." Another one of those heroes' kids? Was I going to make _any_ normal friends at all? "And we do _not_ get along well." I snapped, a little bit too late.

Roxanne raised her eyebrow again.

"It's true!" I huffed indignantly, "And Merlin woman, how many cousins do you have? Are you related to the whole bloody school?"

She laughed. "Pretty much." She glanced behind me. "In fact," she said with a wicked smirk, "here comes another one of my cousin's now."

I groaned. "Well, might as well meet the whole family," I muttered, turning around.

HOLY –

Oh no. Nay, say it isn't so!

Please. Please, please, please tell me that there was someone hiding behind him.

"Oh, hey, nice to see you again." He waved. "Hey Rox."

Oh Merlin, no.

"Hey Louis," called Roxanne.

Oh my god.

Why.

WHY.

Roxanne was cousins with Monsieur Sex-Face.

Those angel's were singing again. _Ahh…_

* * *

**MWAHAHA OH VAL YOU JOKER, YOU. I had fun writing that :)**

**Now I have to hide before Chan assaults me...**


	6. Ringo Gifford

**Heyy guys,**

**Okay yeah I know. I realise it's been like 2 months since I last uploaded and yeah I am a horrible person and you guys have every right to ditch me, but I was REALLY REALLY BUSY (see, in capitals too!). I had exams and I'm still really busy, also for me to write well I have to be in a 'zone', you know? I have to be in the mood and... yeah, basically after the spree last time, I just haven't been in the mood for ages D:**

**The first half was written during my little spree, then everything just happened at the same time, so the first half has been rotting away on my computer for a couple of months now and originally I planned to not finish writing until next week.****But I had lots of people bugging me to continue writing, and I'm going to be honest, it made me feel really special to see that you guys actually cared. So I stayed up really late last night trying to finish this.**

**I would also like to thank you all for the lovely reviews and messages I received. I don't know how many of my old reviewers will still be around, but if you are still here, thank you so much, I love you and I hope this doesn't disappoint.**

**xxx K**

* * *

CHAPTER SIX – Ringo Gifford

I refuse. I absolutely refuse.

Monsieur Sex-Face is part Veela. An eighth, to be precise. I felt betrayed.

Roxanne told me that he had girls swarming at his feet all the time.

Really? Well ha! Not me! I refused to be sucked in by the Veela charm. Nobody coveted the swoonage of Valerie Walker by illegal methods! Any admiration from yours truly must be dutifully and honestly earned – it took more than a little Veela hullabaloo to draw the affections of moi, merci beaucoup. I would not cave!

Say goodbye, angels – I would not let the angels sing for someone who cheated his way into it. I'll show you, when he gets out of this classroom that we're waiting outside right now, there will be no angels. My eyes had adjusted, they would no longer be blinded by the gorgeous blue eyes, the sexy, tousled blonde hair, the –

Ah. Ahem. I beg your pardon.

Right. No more blinding.

The door opened. Ah! Now watch – I shall not even throw him a second glance.

"Move out of the way," Roxanne muttered, as the 7th years starting filing out, dragging me by the elbow and quickly out of the doorway.

"Yeah, okay – "

_OH MY GOD DID HE JUST BRUSH PAST ME?_

"Sorry, I – oh!" He laughed as he saw me. Oh my God.

_Ahh…_

"You again?" he said, "We just keep bumping into each other, don't we?"

Please. Bump into me all you like. I won't even complain if you knock me to the ground and have to pick me up again. Really.

"It's a case of strong attraction."

SAY WHAT? DID I –

MERLIN'S SAGGY EPIDERMIS – DID I REALLY JUST SAY THAT?

Roxanne snorted, which she tried to hastily cover with a cough. I wanted to inconspicuously yet somewhat aggressively jab her in the ribs, but was presently too mortified to move.

Someone kill me. MURDER ME AND THROW ME TO THE HIPPOGRIFFS.

His laughter rang through the corridor.

"Perhaps," he chuckled.

Oh my God, I swear I could make love to his voice. I think a couple of girls passed out behind me.

"Hey, kind of a bad place to stop, Lulu."

My eyes darted (oh-so-reluctantly, I assure you) from his (godly) face to the (stupid) figure (who just interrupted us) that emerged from behind him. Another laugh rang though the corridor, but I definitely felt no sexual attraction to this second set of soundwaves.

"Oh hello, Walker. Distracting 7th years, I see – you are creating quite a hold-up." He jerked his head to the mass of students who were indeed trying to get out the door. "Keep moving, Lulu." He placed his hands on Louis Weasley's (broad and extremely manly) shoulders and started towing him away.

What? BRING HIM BACK HERE.

Louis rolled his eyes. "I'm moving – _Freda_," he drawled back, with a smirk.

I tried not to fall over. _Ahh…_

"Head Girl's taking me hostage, save me!" he cried dramatically with a wink.

Fred whacked him round the head. I melted.

But despite being a little puddle, I still managed a shrug. "He had to come out sometime," I said, with a wicked grin at Fred. Oh yes, Suaviland, here I come.

I ducked as Fred made to whack me, unabashedly still grinning like a loon. Why, you ask? Why, because I earned a laugh from Monsieur Sex-Face, of course!

"I think your friend has picked where her loyalties lie, Freddie," he said with a grin. Sticking his (manly and practically dripping with sex appeal) hand out to me, he said: "You picked the right side, m'darling; welcome to the good side. We always win," he added with a glance at Fred.

With you as their leader, I can see why.

_M'darling_.

_Ahh…_

But as I reached out to innocently grope his hand, another swatted it away.

"The good side is vastly overrated," scoffed Fred. He stuck his (albeit no less manly, but not quite as dripping with sex appeal) hand where Louis's was previously. "Join the dark side," he commanded. Then with a wink; "We have cookies."

"Idiots," muttered Roxanne as the pair of them started a round of hysterics. She waved them off, "Miss Walker has a class to attend. Piss off, loonies."

"Come on," she said, with the air of speaking to a five year old, towing me by the arm into the classroom, when I continued to stare after their retreating figures.

Oh my God. Did –

"Are you ever at a loss for words to say, Red?"

Are _you_?

"Why is that you are always _everywhere_?"

"It's a case of strong attraction," he shrugged, before his face split into a grin.

I have to say, I got a bit of a good kick out of watching him wince when I whacked him over the head with my book bag. But even James and his antics couldn't dampen my mood.

I was just flirting with Monsieur Sex-Face.

Flirting! With Monsieur Sex-Face!

Crap.

"No longer blinded, my _arse_," hissed a very amused Roxanne into my ear. I could almost hear her smirking. Oh right, that's because she _was_.

Really, my book bag was becoming the _most_ competent weapon these days.

With a huff, I sat down instead next to Zephyr. My cool-headed friend would not laugh at me, I was sure. A small smile played at Zeph's lips, but she didn't say anything. Ah, see? _These_were the types of friends I wanted – those who knew that wanted to make fun of me, but for the sake of my sanity, they would refrain from doing so. I knew I liked Zeph.

"You and James can go and be horrible people together," I said loftily, waving my hands at Roxanne. "All _I_ need is Zeph. Lovely, lovely Zephyr Varnes." I sang, latching myself onto her arm and grinning at her.

"Let go of me."

* * *

Hector Brumby was his name.

"Hello, welcome back, 6th years!" Professor Brumby rubbed his hands together and beamed around at us happily. He was the rather plump sort and his eyes lit up with a kind of childish delight in his round-cheeked face as he regarded us.

"I'm glad to you have you back! And to start off the year I thought we could just do something easy, a little bit of revision from some of the stuff we covered last year." He flicked his wand. A piece of chalk flew across the board. _THE DRAUGHT OF PEACE_, it wrote in large capital letters. A very noticeable groan rumbled through the classroom.

"Something easy. Yeah. Right," huffed Roxanne.

Ah yes, I remember this potion: _D'eau de la Paix_. Brewed to relieve anxiety and agitation.

Pity that it caused so much anxiety while brewing since it was so bloody hard.

Professor Brumby chuckled. "Don't be like that. Pg 168 of your textbooks. Oh, and I will be assigning partners for today." His grin grew even bigger, as though he thought he was being quite witty.

He lumbered down the aisle, pairing off people at random. I tried to be inconspicuous as I shuffled my chair closer to Roxanne. He wouldn't be so cruel as to pair the new kid off randomly, would he? Especially one that's so non-social-birdy like yours truly? He wouldn't. Really. Human compassion speaking here.

"Miss Weasley with Miss Goldstein. Miss Varnes you will be with Miss Thomas."

You must be joking. He just paired off the rest of my dorm. Roxanne shot me an apologetic look, but nonetheless started gathering her stuff. That left only one other person in this room that I knew.

Please put me with James. Please put me with James.

"And you," he said, looking down at me. Then he frowned. I think he was thinking. Then his face brightened up.

"Oh of course!" he exclaimed. "You must be Valerie Walker. Professor McGonagall told me that there would be a new student!" He stuck his hand for me to shake and I took proffered hand, shaking it with a smile. "Lovely to meet you, I'm Professor Brumby."

Yes I know that, Brumby old chap. And now that we are awfully good chums, please be so kind as too pair me with that boy with dark hair sitting behind me.

"Now, seeing that you're new, I don't think you'll have made many friends yet, am I right?"

Right you are, Brumbles! So that's why I think you should let me –

"In that case, I think I should introduce you to some of our lovely students. One that will not lead you astray, don't you think so?"

He was grinning and chuckling as he said it, but not even a blind man would have missed the flick of his eyes to someone behind me. I did not even need to turn to know who that someone was. God help me, this _would_ happen. I mentally cursed any day that James Potter decided he wanted to be a troublemaker.

I tried to be as subtle as I could as I turned around in my seat to glare at the stupid tosser as soon as Brumby turned his head. He was rocking back on his chair talking to some guy sitting next to him. He'd practically just ruined my life, and he didn't even have the decency to look at me while I was wallowing! As my mother would say: the NERVE some people have!

Actually she'd probably just say some annoying words of attempted wisdom like:

_Oh, but new friends are just SO LOVELY, one can NEVER have enough friends, VALLIE._

Emphasising all the wrong words too.

I hate my life.

"Ah," said Professor Brumby, breaking me out of my trying-to-burn-a-hole-in-James-Potter's-head-with-my-eyes. "Here we go; follow me, Miss Walker."

I nodded, and, with a slight resigned sigh, picked up my books and followed him as he weaved through the tables.

"Mr Gifford."

The boy sitting at the table looked up from the parchment that he'd been copying ingredients down on.

"Yes, sir?"

"I want to introduce you to a new student. She's a Gryffindor, so I don't know if you'll have met her, but this is Valerie Walker. Miss Walker, this is Ringo Gifford. He's in Hufflepuff."

I tried to hide behind him, but Brumby placed a hand on my shoulder and shoved me forward. Okay, okay, I'm moving.

Ringo Gifford looked at me and a flare of recognition lit up his eyes. Yep, rumour of the new kid had spread.

"Now I know you two aren't in the same house, but I've always found that inter-house relationships are most beneficial," Professor Brumby said with a sniff. "You two will be partners for today. I'm sure you'll get along swimmingly. Now if you'll excuse me."

And he waddled away. Leaving an awkwardness thicker than Bubotuber pus hanging between me and Ringo Gifford.

After a pause, he stuck out his hand. "Uh, nice to meet you," he said, in a tone that sounded somewhat like a question.

I laughed weakly and took his hand. "Nice to meet you too."

Our eyes met. And then we were both in hysterics.

I don't even know what was so funny, but one minute I was contemplating hexing something to break the ice, and the next I was laughing so hard I almost had tears coming out of my eyes. Don't even ask. I have no clue.

And the best thing was, this Ringo kid was clearly just as crazy as I was.

Finally after the hysterics partially subsided, Ringo Gifford, still chortling, reached for his list of ingredients and waved them at me.

"Want to get started, partner?" he asked, trying to stay straight-faced, but failing miserably.

I grinned at him. "Sure thing, partner." And I rushed off to gather the ingredients.

"So," he said when I returned, carefully placing the ingredients onto the bench. "Where did you transfer from?" He grabbed a Valerian root and carefully started slicing it.

I looked at the open book. _Use mortar and pestle to grind porcupine quills until fine powder_.

"Beauxbatons," I answered, as I unceremoniously dropped a quill into the mortar and started pounding it.

"Have you – "

But I cut him off before he could even start.

"Yes, we speak French. Yes, the two schools are very different. Yes, I miss it, but I do like it here very much too. No, we don't only eat snails. Yes, we do have French spells, but no, I will not do a demonstration." I said all in one long breath.

His eyes widened a little in surprise, but then he smiled. "I was actually going to ask if everyone had tried to interrogate you already, but I guess that answers my question."

"Oh." Fine. Be that way. Ruin my moment. "Well, us unsociable creatures must prepare our speeches before the onslaught, you see. You normal people can be quite scary."

He laughed quietly, grabbing another root. "It's okay, I get how you feel."

I quirked an eyebrow. "Do you?" I didn't think that he did. He was a good-looking boy with his perfect blonde hair and pretty hazel eyes. Yeah, like he could relate to me and my mediocrity.

He nodded, tipping his chopped roots into a little bowl. God, he was quick. I was still on my first porcupine quill.

"I do. I transferred last year."

"Really?" I asked, brightening. I grabbed another quill.

"Yeah." He grabbed his own mortar and pestle and started pounding the unicorn horn.

"How exciting, we can be newbies together," I said with a laugh, "Sort of," I added, seeing as he wasn't totally newbie. "You can teach me the ways of transferring from Newbieland to Hogwartsland."

"I doubt you'll hang out with me much, Walker."

I stopped my pounding. I turned to him slowly. Normally I probably would have overlooked it, but his tone made me suspicious. What was that supposed to mean?

He continued pounding, as though nothing had happened. At one point, his eyes – I suppose it was meant to be subtle – flicked to me, to see why I wasn't responding. He practically jumped out of his skin when he saw my face inches from his, my eyes studying his face.

Yeah, yeah. I'm kind of creepy. What of it?

"Don't do that!"

"What was that supposed to mean?"

"What?" He scooped some of the unicorn horn that fell out and placed it back into mortar.

"What was that supposed to mean?"

"What was what supposed to mean?"

"What do you mean by 'I doubt you'll be hanging out with me much'?" I demanded.

He gave me a sideways glance before continuing with his pounding. "Isn't it kind of obvious?" he asked slowly.

"What, am I not cool enough to hang out with you?" I huffed indignantly. Um, ouch? God, he was one of _those_ people? And I thought he was cool!

He stopped pounding, and turned to me, eyes wide. "What, no! That's not what I meant!"

"Yeah? Well, enlighten me! Maybe I'm not up to date with my Hogwarts lingo." I snapped sarcastically.

"I just – " He seemed to struggle with himself for a little bit before letting out a long breath. "Don't worry," he muttered, "You wouldn't understand."

"Oh yeah? Try me," I bit out perhaps a little testily.

He didn't say anything, and I rolled my eyes. Classic avoiding of conversation. Fine. I'll make myself scarce, in that case. I pulled out the scales in silence and started measuring amounts of moonstone powder.

Then suddenly, he murmured something. At least, I think he did. He was speaking so quietly that I wasn't quite sure if he said anything or not.

"Sorry?" I asked, turning to him.

His pounding slowed until he wasn't pounding at all. He closed his eyes, and let out a long breath.

"I'm… not very popular."

His voice was slow and hesitant, as though he wasn't quite sure how to say it. When the words did finally leave his lips, he had a moment where his eyes flickered to my face, as though wanting to see my reaction, but at the last second couldn't quite bring himself to do it and instead, he returned to hammering at the bit unicorn horn ferociously, despite the fact that it was already a fine dust.

Oh.

Wait, what?

Are you serious? _This_ was the issue?

The notion was so ridiculous that I burst out laughing. Ringo's eyes flickered to me, and he looked a little hurt.

"Wait," I said through a fit of giggles, "You think – that _I_ – wouldn't want to hang out – with _you_?"

This surprised him, I think, and he slowly raised an eyebrow. "Well… – "

I was in hysterics now, absolutely bent over double. Poor Ringo was looking very confused, and perhaps a little worried for my sanity as I continued howling like a loon.

"Oh my God," I wheezed, "Oh my God,"

I could not believe my ears. He thought _what_? Um, hello? Grindylow Jr. over here!

"Ringo Gifford," I said finally, "I don't know what type of assholes you usually hang out with, but I would be honoured to be your friend."

He tried to raise an eyebrow again, but I could see the façade slipping, and a hopeful look touched his eyes.

"Really?" he asked quietly.

"Absolutely," I promised. "We unpopular people need to stick together." I winked at him, as I turned back to my moonstone.

His smile faltered. "I don't think that applies to you, Walker," he said, slowly.

I almost rolled my eyes. Actually wait, I did.

"Huh, and what makes you think that?" I hummed absentmindedly, tipping a little more moonstone onto the scale.

"You're friends with James Potter, aren't you?"

The scales wobbled precariously as I tipped over the entire spoon by accident. I put down the spoon, ignoring the now unbalanced scale.

"We're polite acquaintances," I informed him, "But how is that of any relevance?" I demanded, crossing my arms across my chest.

Ringo looked very uncomfortable indeed. "Well – "

But of course, being the polite person I am, cut him off.

"Let me guess, this school is runs monarchy and James Potter is the king?"

"I guess you could put it like that."

I sighed. "Why am I _not_ surprised," I huffed. The guy was Harry Potter's kid, for crying out loud – it was to be expected.

"Listen, I don't have much patience for social hierarchies. The only people on the social ladder are the people who bother to climb it. And to be frank, I don't have enough energy or care-factor to do that. I'm perfectly happy with both my feet firmly planted on the ground, thanks, and if that's where you are too, then great; you've just found yourself a buddy."

He blinked. And then, slowly, a smile crept up onto his face. "Welcome aboard," he said with a grin.

I smiled back. "Thanks."

Just as I was about to go back to evening out the scale, however, I turned back to Ringo, who was pouring some syrup of hellebore into a small vial.

"But just quickly, do you like James?" I asked

Ringo's hand paused. He looked at me ever so briefly, and continued pouring, as though he didn't hear me. I took that as a no.

"Have you ever actually spoken to him before?" I pressed. This was a major issue I'd noticed among my fellows at Beauxbatons too.

"No, not really," he murmured after a pause. I could almost hear the cogs whirring inside his head.

"Right... so don't you think it's a little unfair to make judgements about him before you've even spoken?" I said, slowly. He didn't answer and I hoped that he wasn't mad at me. I ran a hand through my hair. "He's actually really nice; you should talk to him sometime, I'm sure he's not as stuck-up as you're making him out to be."

"I'll pass, thanks," he said stiffly.

I sighed. "Ringo," I said. When he ignored me I reached out and touched his hand that was pouring the hellebore. His eyes darted to my face.

"Ringo," I repeated firmly, "I'm not going to ditch you. Honestly, I want to be your friend. I'll be around so much you'll probably get sick of me within the next week. I think you should give James a chance, but if he won't accept you as my friend, then he can deal."

Finally, he sighed, and I beamed. He turned to me. "Okay, thanks." And despite everything, he gave me a small but meek smile.

"Anytime," I told him with a grin.

We finally got the ingredients sorted out and he lit the fire beneath the cauldron.

Ah, okay, this was where I should stop. I eyed the cauldron warily.

"I'm not going to lie," I said slowly, "I'm terrible at Potions."

"That's not good," he said in the same tone, eyeing his set up cauldron like it might combust in his face. "So am I."

And then we were we were giggling like little kids all over again.

* * *

"What do I put in now?"

"Moonstone."

"Wait, that's this one right? They're both grey!"

"No, that one's moonstone."

"Okay. Right, that's the colour is should be by this stage, right?"

"I think so… Do I put this in now?"

"No I think we're meant to put the hellebore in now."

"Is that what it says in the book?"

"I think so… wait, we're at step seven, right?"

"I don't know! Was step six the moonstone?"

"Wait, don't put that in!"

"Huh? But I thought – "

"Uh… is it supposed to be doing that?"

"NO! GET OUT OF THE WAY!"

And here we are; lying on the floor of the Potion's classroom, covering in orange, gloopy failed Draught of Peace, and laughing our heads off.

"You okay?" Ringo managed to force out through his laughs.

"Just dandy," I choked.

"Nice face mask."

"Thanks, my colour, no?"

"Absolutely, Walker."

"You know, seeing as we're going to be friends and all, I think you should maybe get used to calling me Val."

"Absolutely, Val."

* * *

After seeing Madame Pomfrey to get cleaned up, I farewelled my new friend, then met up with Roxanne back in the Gryffindor common room. Many a joke was made about my extreme attractiveness while covered in orange gloop.

As we were about to leave the tower, however, the portrait hole swung open and Fred walked in with a piece of parchment and a quill in his hands.

"Hey guys," he nodded before walking over to the billboard and pinning the sheet of paper up. I leaned over his shoulder to get a good look.

_GRYFFINDOR QUIDDITCH TRYOUTS_

"You going to be there, Walker? There's tough competition this year, don't blame you if you get nervous and back out." He winked.

I smirked and snatched the quill from his hands.

Roxanne cheered as I signed my name on the list with a flourish.

Tough competition? Pfft.

Bring it on.

* * *

**OKAY. WAS IT TERRIBLE? I'M SORRY IF IT WAS. Uploading new chapters always freaks me out because I'm never sure if it'll meet the standard of the last one.**

**RIGHT. So the story is finally going somewhere. I spent the last 5 chapters setting the scene and now something is FINALLY happening. QUIDDITCH WEEWW. The Quidditch Tryouts were supposed to be this chapter, but then I ended up spending more time on Ringo Gifford that I had intended to. I don't know, what do you guys think of him? He turned out very different to how I originally planned, but my characters have a way of developing themselves as I type. Let me know what you think; it was interesting creating a character outside the Potter-Weasley clan/friendship circle, but I wanted to show what others might have thought of them, and seeing as they are practically famous, I'm guessing they would have seemed somewhat intimidating.**

**Anyway, Quidditch next time, and then there's the REALLY REALLY EXCITING thing that Val's mum was talking about. Take a guess at what it is, I'd really like to see what your theories are :D**

**Anyway, the next update shouldn't take as long as this one (hopefully), but I still don't think it'll be for a couple of weeks, sorryy :(**

**Until then,**

**xxx K**


	7. Fangirlism of the Potter and the Weasley

**There are only so many times one can apologize for being a fat, lazy slob.**

* * *

CHAPTER 7 - Fangirlism of the Potter and the Weasley

"Come again?"

I must have heard wrong.

"Quidditch tryouts are cancelled."

I shook my head. Nope, heard wrong again.

"Once more. With conviction."

"Really now, Valerie – "

"You cancelled tryouts!" James demanded. "Why!"

Yes. Why, Fred, why? Please do tell.

"I can't really say – "

Roxanne shot him a look. She looked like she was mortally offended.

"Guys, I'm really sorry, but something's come up. It's really important, and tryouts aren't _cancelled_, just postponed until next week because – "

I'm sorry, until _when_?

"_Next week_?"

"_Yes_, next week." Fred bit back at his sister, who still looked utterly mortified.

"But then the other houses will be a week ahead of us!"

"Actually, all Quidditch tryouts are being postponed until next week."

Cancel. Quidditch.

The two words had never been used together in my presence before. I think I was going to be sick. That is, until I noticed something off about Fred's face.

"You look far too pleased about this." I said suspiciously, narrowing my eyes.

Fred tried, unsuccessfully, to wipe the grin from his face.

Actually, 'grin' was an understatement. He was positively beaming.

"Well… as Quidditch Captain, I suppose I would be kind of pissed at first, but in the long run..." His eyes sparkled.

"Yes?" I prodded. "In the long run…?"

He looked around at all the expectant faces of the Gryffindor Quidditch hopefuls who were waiting for an explanation. Then his eyes settled on my stubborn form, arms crossed and scowling. I stared defiantly back at him, waiting. Finally, he shook his head.

"Sorry, I can't say, it's still classified information between us Heads and McGonagall – "

Roxanne snorted.

"What could possibly be more important than Quidditch, other than Quidditch?" James asked, crossing his arms across his chest.

At this, Fred's lip twitched.

"You'll see. Trust me, it'll be worth it."

Somehow, I seriously doubted that.

* * *

The week passed painfully slowly and there were times I swear my fingers twitched from the temptation to just grab my broom and fly out the window. I just wanted to play some Quidditch, for Merlin's sake.

I was productive though, in my week of Quidditch withdrawal. So productive, in fact, I got around to compiling a list of people that I met and committing them to memory.

I'm actually being serious.

_**Hogwarts Professors **__by V. Walker_

_Potions Professor: Hector Brumby_

_Age:__ Fifties?_

_Description:__ Fairly jovial, bouncy chap. Slightly greying and balding. Which is perfectly fine, of course. I've always liked bald people. _

_Comments:__ Ah yes, old Brumbles. Thank you, Brumblebee, for not listening to my silent prayers, for if you had, I would not have met the legend that is Ringo Gifford. My greatest gratitude to thee._

_._

_Head of Quidditch: Corinne Harper_

_Age:__ Mid to late thirties? Early forties?_

_Description:__ Has awesome spiky red hair that makes her head look like it's on fire. _

_Comments:__ So bad-ass._

_._

_Charms Professor: Filius Flitwick_

_Age:__ …Old._

_Description:__ Short little fellow, remarkably lively for someone of his age, even though I have no clue how old he is, but apparently he's been here for ages, always harping on about teaching James' grandparents and fighting alongside Harry Potter. So I would assume fairly old. _

_Comments:__ I LOVE FLITWICK. He's so cheerful all the time, and gave me a block of Honeydukes chocolate to welcome me in my first lesson! Is that not just so adorable? Mind you, I did only get a tiny bit of it because James kept on sneaking pieces when he thought I wasn't looking, but I let him. He's the one gaining weight, not me. Ha!_

_._

_Headmistress/Transfiguration Professor: Minerva McGonagall_

_Age: __I would have no clue. I assume she'd be pretty old too, but I can't place a guess. What, with all the anti-aging cosmetic spells about these days, you never really can be sure._

_Description:__ Tall, thin, stern woman. Greying hair that's always in a tight bun._

_Comments:__ So strict. But then I hear tales of how she is a compassionate woman so I still have faith in you, Minnie. And please don't give me detention because I haven't finished my Transfiguration homework. But really now, what use would Caspy be to me if he were a lamp, hm?_

_._

_Astronomy Professor: Michel Lambert_

_Age:__ Fifties to sixties?_

_Description:__ Short, round man. Always playing with his big bushy moustache. But truthfully, it _is_ a rather impressive moustache, if I had one like such I'd probably fiddle with it all the time as well. He and my pal Brumbles are apparently old friends. They look pretty similar so I'm not surprised._

_Comments:__ He's French, in case you can't tell. He got so excited in my first class when he found out I could speak French and went to Beauxbatons that he started babbling away and ended up spending most of the lesson chatting away with me. Which was most embarrassing and earned me several weird looks from my fellows, as well as an enthusiastic: "No more Astronomy for the rest of the year! Woo!" from Roxanne. He's now taken to calling me "Chérie Valerie!" in the corridors, which he thinks is utterly hilarious. Quite the wit, you are, Prof. Lambert._

_._

_History of Magic Professor: Cuthbert Binns_

_Age: He's a ghost. I'm not joking. _

_Description: …HE'S A GHOST._

_Comments: Shall I say it again? HE'S A GHOST. For god's sake, you'd think when he died he'd have at least retired. When people say there are forces greater than death, I really would not have pinned History of Magic as one of them._

_._

_Care of Magical Creatures Professor: Rubeus Hagrid_

_Age: How am I supposed to know? I'm already terrible at guessing human ages, don't even go into giants._

_Description: He's a half giant. Naturally, he's _huge. _He patted me on the shoulder once and I swear my collarbone disintegrated. My teeth too. I should have listened when Al told me not to touch those cakes._

_Comments: He's a really fun person, that Hagrid. He too, apparently, has been here since god knows when, and he spouts off stories at random. Sometimes I swear James visits him just to hear the dirt on his parents. But of course there is none. Wizarding saviour Harry Potter and all. _

_._

_Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor: William Weasley_

_Age: Late forties?_

_Description: Louis's dad. Louis Weasley's dad. Monsieur. Sex-Face's. Dad. Wait! I can't think about him! No longer blinded. No longer blinded. But let's just say; it may not be the purely the Veela genes that make him sexy._

_Comments: Before you say anything, I am NOT hitting on Louis Weasley's dad! But most of the girls in our year level do. And yes, he has scars on his face, but for some reason, that doesn't deter anybody. But seriously, hot or not, he's like, fifty! And I'm already betrothed to a certain – WAIT! I'M NO LONGER BLINDED. _

.

My list ended there because then I got bored.

Oops. Maybe I'll finish it later.

Unfortunately, the ending of my list meant that I was once again forced to dwell on the fact that I COULD NOT PLAY QUIDDITCH.

"Still annoyed?" James commented mildly as I trudged into Potions and plopped myself unceremoniously into the chair beside him, burying my face in my arms with a huff.

I grunted in reply.

He chuckled.

I kicked him.

He laughed harder.

"Get up before Brumby gets here, Val, or he might shoot water at you again. Oh wait, did I say you? I meant me." I felt a bit of wind on my face as Roxanne seated herself on my other side, dropping her books onto the desk.

I giggled. That _had _been quite funny really. I fell asleep last lesson and Brumby thought he would surprise me with a bit of morning _Aguamenti_ down the neck. Fortunately, I was not as asleep as he thought I was and at the last second deflected the charm, which ricocheted off my shield and straight into Roxanne's face.

It was _hilarious_. Brumby thought so too and chuckled heartily before awarding me ten points for quick wandwork! Ten points! Ha ha! Finally, some appreciation.

I didn't really get to wallow in my magnificence for long though, because Roxanne retaliated instantly with a squirt of her own.

The happenings that followed need not be mentioned, but we owe Emma some new parchment.

"You looked like you needed it, darling," I smirked, lifting my head off the desk and leaning back on the hind legs of my chair, grinning at her, "I mean, it'd been too long since your last shower; I thought you'd appreciate the thoughtfulness on my part."

An ear-splitting shriek emitted from my lips as Roxanne nudged the precariously balancing chair with her foot. I saw James' hand shoot out to stop me, but he was far too slow and I flailed attractively off the back of my chair. Luckily, I was not so slow, and took Roxanne with me.

"Ow," Roxanne pouted, rubbing her shoulder.

"'Ow' is about right," I murmured, probing the back of my head with a wince.

Worried faces loomed over me.

"You guys okay?"

"Smooth, Red."

Sorry, my bad. Only one worried face.

I was about to send back a biting remark, or maybe chuck something at him, when I caught a glimpse of a certain someone. A certain someone who walked straight past my mangled body, without a second glance.

A certain fair-haired someone with an inferiority complex.

Ah ha.

I scrambled to my feet, all thoughts of witty remarks forgotten.

Everyone looked at me in confusion – at least, I think they did, from what I could see in my peripherals. I couldn't be sure, because I was staring at the retreating back of Goldilocks. Now really, he didn't _honestly _think that walking away from me was enough to get rid me did he?

"What are you – " James began, but I was already moving.

"I'll be right back," I muttered. I'm not sure if they heard me though, because I was already half way across the classroom.

He was at the supplies cupboard, fishing through something I couldn't see, probably to get ingredients ready for the class. Pfft, as if he was already collecting ingredients! Brumby wasn't even here yet.

I wasn't exactly being overly quiet, so I was a little surprised when he didn't turn around.

Oh okay, ignoring me?

Well then, I would make myself noticed in a way that he could not possibly ignore me.

See, I've never really been one of those people to comply with subtle hints of "GET OUT OF MY FACE". The poor sod. He was stuck with me, he was.

I ran forward and leapt onto his back, and placed a hand over his eyes. I used to do it to my friends at Beauxbatons all the time so I was well adept at looking like a retard monkey.

"Hello, stranger," I murmured into his ear.

His hands froze in the motion of picking up some ginger roots from a large box. He brought his hand up to mine and tried to prise it from his face to look around at the weirdo perched on his back.

"Valerie?" he asked cautiously, when he was unsuccessful.

I rolled my eyes.

"No, actually," I said brightly, "My name's Gertrude, nice to meet you."

He laughed at that one and I grinned. There's the Ringo I was looking for.

I clambered off his back and he turned to face me, his eyes twinkling.

"Now now," he said, tucking his box of collected ingredients under his arm, while tossing up a small bottle of suspicious looking liquid in his other hand (which I identified as Armadillo bile. Haha! Pats on the back for Val!), "Let's not be presumptuous here. I have a cousin named Gertrude, and I love her dearly. You're insulting my family, Walker!" he said with a grin.

"Oh dear," I said, plastering a look of mock horror on my face. "Tell your dearest Gertrude that I send my love, and that I would _never_ judge her by her name." I said sweetly, taking his box from him.

He reached for it, but I shoved it behind my back.

"So," I said loftily, "what are you doing here?"

He raised an eyebrow.

"Collecting ingredients," he replied, even though the tone with which he replied sounded more like a question. "Which I would like to have back, thanks."

He tried to manoeuvre around me to grab the box but I danced out of his reach.

"Really?" I asked, adopting the same floaty tone. "So early into the lesson? Even though there is no Professor here yet?"

He lunged and I danced away again.

"Even though you couldn't _really_ be sure of what the Professor had planned?"

Oooh, that was close, he grazed my elbow.

"It's next in the book! Come on, Val!"

I smiled innocently.

"But Professors don't _have_ to follow books, do they, Mr Gifford?"

I ducked as his arms flailed above my head.

"And spending so long in the supplies cupboard – "

Another close one.

"It would almost seem as though you were _avoiding_ someone, hm?"

His denial – "What? No!" – was said far too quickly, far too soon, far too high pitched, and he looked far too surprised.

Guilty.

I stopped my twirling abruptly and he nearly collided with me.

"You _were_ avoiding me," I accused, eyes narrowed. "Why?"

"I wasn't!"

The familiar flicker of uneasiness that passed across his face told me everything I needed to know.

"For the last time," I said quietly, firmly, "I am _not_ going to ditch you. I said we were friends, and we're friends. I don't know what kind of insane inferiority complex you have, but you're not actually as repulsive as you seem to think you are. And I know what you're going to say," I said, cutting him off as he opened his mouth, "and I can tell you once again, that I don't believe in any of this social hierarchy crap, I'll be friends with whoever I want and no _social butterfly_," – I spat the words disdainfully – "can tell me otherwise."

I was stopped in the middle of my heated speech when I felt the box disappear from my hands.

"Come on now, Red, why are you stealing this poor soul's ginger roots?"

Okay, worst timing ever, my friend.

My eyes flickered to Ringo in a panic, and yep – Ringo shutting down.

I wanted to throw something. Though at the boy in front or behind me, I wasn't sure.

I twirled around, and held out a hand. "Give me the box, James."

He laughed and held it out of my reach, twisting around me and instead, offered the box to Ringo.

Oh, well, that changed things a little.

"I believe this is yours," he said with an impish grin.

His eyes sparkled mischievously as he held the box out to a stunned Ringo with one hand. I felt his other hand come down on my shoulder.

"Sorry about her. The brat can't help herself." He sent Ringo a wink and then looked at me to gouge my reaction. But I didn't have an appropriate one to offer, because I was somewhat in shock.

He _winked_ at Ringo. Like they were old mates!

Self-obsessed social butterflies _never_ do that.

So did James really fit into that category?

I looked steadily at Ringo, trying to ask him this exact question with my eyes.

Well, technically with my eyebrows, but that would sound ridiculous if I put that into the sentence.

His eyes were wide and somewhat horrified as he stared from James to the box of roots and ground scarab beetles, like the beetles would suddenly un-grind themselves and come to life and attack him.

James was thrown for a moment at the silence from both of us. Me staring at Ringo. Ringo staring at the box.

"Um…" He turned to Ringo, who was still staring at the box like he couldn't believe his eyes. Come on, Ringo! Work with him here, he can't do all the work!

James cleared his throat. "Um, Gifford, are you going to take the box? My arm is kind of hurting."

I beamed. It wasn't true, of course. Quidditch players getting sore arms from holding a box? Don't make me laugh. But that was not the part of the sentence that made me smile.

The second the word 'Gifford' rolled off his tongue, I wanted to sing.

Well, I can't sing, but I wanted to jump around like a crazy maniac and chant.

It was the best thing James could have done for my 'I'm-a-loser-you-won't-want-to-talk-to-me' friend because addressing someone by their name is the first sign of respect.

Ringo's eyes darted up, a classic 'holy-crap-he-knows-my-name' expression gracing his face. Numbly, he took the box from James hand, and his eyes flickered to me. I was grinning so wide I thought my face would split. We were making progress!

"Thanks," he muttered, before turning back to face the ingredients cupboard, to finish collecting his ingredients.

Okay, well, kind of making progress. But this little bit of progress was enough for me, for now.

The second Ringo turned his back, I spun around to face James. He was grinning wickedly at me and I could feel a jibe coming. But he never got to insult me because I flung my arms around his neck and gave him a fleeting hug.

"Thanks," I whispered in his ear.

I would have thought he would have been shocked, or at least a little unfazed, but _no_. James Potter is never unfazed.

"No problem!" he whispered back brightly, grinning at me, and I could tell he was mocking me just a little bit. "But," he said, as I let go of him, "do you want to tell me why I deserve such a display of affection?"

Now it was my turn to grin wickedly. And the smile faltered.

I grinned wider. I would let him chew it over. He didn't need to know the real reason, and besides, it was funny watching him sweat.

"What? What is it?"

I shrugged. This was hilarious.

"Red!"

I was definitely _not_ telling him after he called me that!

Blowing a bit of hair out of my face, I spun back to face Ringo, and I couldn't keep that tiny smile off my face.

"Ringo."

He turned around to face me and I grinned knowingly. He rolled his eyes, but I recognised it as a sign of defeat.

"You were saying?" I sang sweetly.

He shot me a look.

I shot one back. He was not going to win this one.

Finally he relented and mumbled sort of agreement tumbled from his lips.

"Great!" I said brightly, "So if I ever hear you talking about me ditching you again, I'll hex you." I grinned, as though I hadn't just threatened him and he gave me a dull look.

Then I abruptly became seriously and looked him straight in the eye.

He looked surprised at my sudden change of mood and slightly wary.

"Now," I said solemnly, "I have something serious to ask you."

Tense pause.

"Is your cousin really called Gertrude?"

His lips twitched and he sighed.

"No," he admitted, "but even if she were, I wouldn't love her any less!"

I laughed heartily, and stepped forward to give him a hug. It wasn't really necessary though, because I was suddenly shoved straight into him.

I turned my head the tiny fraction I could.

"James…" I bit out. "James, what are you doing?"

"Are you okay?" asked Ringo, steadying himself on the cupboard.

My face whipped back to his. "What? What, yes, I'm fine! James get off!"

I elbowed James in the ribs and squeezed out between them.

Well that was somewhat awkward.

"What are – " I meant to snap at James, until I realised that James himself was not responsible.

"Oh my gosh, I'm so sorry!"

I may have twitched a bit. The voice was a bit too high pitched and I wasn't sure if my eardrums could handle it.

I looked at the girl clinging to James' chest. Okay so I get that people trip, but seriously? She managed to move _three_ people!

The girl continued to babble her apologies, staring dreamy-eyed into James' face.

Er…

I glanced awkwardly at Ringo. The look he returned was a knowing one and he rolled his eyes.

"It happens _a lot_."

Then it clicked.

And I was absolutely bent over double in hysterics.

Ringo started laughing at my laughing and soon enough we were both clutching each other like our lives depended on it , howling like loons. James glared at us, furiously, but could do nothing, trapped in the arms of his fan girl.

Oh Merlin, he was _never_ going to hear the end of this.

* * *

That sentence turned out to be true in more ways than the one I had intended. My second encounter with a James Potter fan girl happened the very next day.

And this one hurt a lot more.

We were in Greenhouse 3, cleaning seeds and planting them into pots of mooncalf dung. Professor Longbottom was absent, and the substitute that we had clearly had no idea of what we were to be doing, so he gave us the task of preparing the items for the third years' class, and then took off and left us to it.

It was mindless work, which was good because it meant that we could just chat, while robotically transporting mooncalf dung from bags to pots.

"And then," said Roxanne, while she washed some dung off the leaves of the twitching plant, "McGonagall got up, and I swear, she was going purple in the face, and she was silent for about 5 minutes, and then she absolutely _cracked_ it. Screamed at us so loudly, I thought all of Britain heard. And we got a week's worth of detention. Totally worth it though."

I laughed as she recounted the story of their Halloween prank from last year. It sounded like quite the spectacle.

"Come to think of it, our detention involved us doing pretty much what we're doing right now," said James, handing another handful of seeds to me.

I pressed a seed into the soil of yet another pot and pushed it to Zeph. We were very efficient, we were. Standing in a line, we worked down the table; James washing the seeds, me potting the soil mix and then planting the seeds, Zephyr watering the plants and compressing the soil and Roxanne cleaning silt off the newly sprouted leaves and tending to any damage.

And yes, I can see you thinking it; yes, I did get the worst job.

But handling mooncalf manure wasn't all that bad in exchange for the bludge class. I had gloves anyway. I was rather enjoying myself.

Yes, I _was_, until _that_ happened.

"Oh, James, I'm so sorry!"

This breathy gasp was practically right at my ear and I leaped in shocked because it was bloody frightening, I can tell you.

"It's okay." James was gracious at least, as he steadied the girl plastered against him.

The three of us exchanged a look, and, squeezing our lips together to stop from laughing, continued with our work. I could feel James eyes burning a hole in the side of my head. I heard something that sounded suspiciously like an exasperated huff of "Women!" come from his lips and I had to try extra not to just burst out in laughter right then and there.

What happened next hardly made me want to laugh though.

"Oh well, I suppose I better get back to my work! Thank you!" said the girl brightly and the expression of relief on James face was so instantaneous I almost felt bad for the girl.

She detangled herself, and looked like she was going to walk away, but instead did something else, something that was so obvious to us who were standing there, that I don't know _how _she thought anyone would believe it to be slipping.

Basically, she walked straight into James. And sent them both plummeting to the floor. Which I would have found hilarious on any other day, if it weren't for a certain hand that closed round my wrist.

And pulled me down with them.

This girl was clearly very stupid to attempt such a stunt in Herbology. Especially in today's class. Because careless watering of plants meant the floor was covered in water. Which meant that when I tried to stay upright my feet slipped out from under me and sent me crashing down ten times faster.

And my nose smashed straight into James' shoulder.

Screams erupted around me.

"Oh sorry, I slipped!"

"James!"

"_James!_"

"Oh my god is he okay?"

That was pretty much all I could hear from the squealing girl mob that surrounded me. The girl's friends weren't even worried about her, just James. All James. For God's sake.

I could hear Roxanne snickering, and I briefly wondered how ridiculous I must look, but then realised I didn't really care.

Holy mother cow. I tenderly touched my nose, and almost screamed. It felt like the whole front of my face was on fire, and my eyes instantly watered as a reaction. Something warm and sticky covered my hand. I could hardly breathe through the blood.

It was then that it was not only James's name being called out in panic, when Roxanne realised that maybe there was a reason I wasn't getting up.

"Oh shit," I heard Zeph mutter.

"Val!"

I felt several hands on my arms and they helped me stand up, but my hand never left my face.

Oh my god, oh my god. Bloody freaking ow.

Roxanne tried to manoeuvre herself to look at my face. I tried to move so she couldn't, but people with broken noses move slower than those without. Her eyes widened at the blood seeping through my fingers and dripping slowly onto the floor.

"Valerie!" Jane Thomas squeaked in terror.

Roxanne whipped around to look at James on the ground and the girl who was still lying on top of him and the mob of girls trying to help them up.

"If you're going to fall, fall by yourself!" she shrieked, in a rage.

He looked at her incredulously. "It wasn't me!" he yelled back just as angrily. He swatted the girl off him, who looked a little hurt, and scrambled to his feet.

"Ow…" the girl pouted, hoping for something sympathy. Then, upon seeing James shirt, her eyes widened.

"James!" she squealed, "You're bleeding!"

"What?" James muttered, looking absently down at his shoulder. And he did a double take.

"What the - ?" There was blood covering his right shoulder, trickling down and staining the fabric. But it wasn't his blood.

Oh crap.

"He's bleeding! He's bleeding!"

Oh god, I wished they'd shut up.

"I'm not bleeding!" James insisted, looking at his shoulder, confused.

"No," snarled Roxanne, "You're not." And she grabbed my arm and pushed me forward.

Which moved my nose. Which, as you can imagine, made it hurt like a bloody mother –

"Oh my god," he breathed. He rushed forward, eyes wide, struggling out of the mob of girls until he was standing in front of me.

"Shit," he muttered, "Oh god, shit, are you okay?" His hand lifted instinctively to move my hand away from my face, but Roxanne slapped it away.

"Of course she's not okay," she snapped. "This is _your_ fault," she accused, eyes narrowed, poking James in the chest.

"Actually," Zeph interjected, "I believe the fault is _hers_." She shot a pointed look to the girl on the floor and the girl cowered.

I reached a hand forward to tug on Roxanne's sleeve.

"I honestly don't care whose fault it is," I said thickly through the blood, "I just need to get to the Hospital Wing. _Now_."

Roxanne's eyes widened and all her anger zapped in a second.

"Of course, what the hell am I doing," she muttered. "Can you walk?"

I rolled my eyes at her, and stalked out the door. The entire class followed.

I felt a hand on my elbow as we climbed the stairs and I swivelled my head to see James steadying me. I grimaced. The bloodstain on his shirt was pretty bad.

"Sorry about your shirt," I muttered, though I wasn't sure if he could understand me because I could hardly understand myself.

He shot me a look, and it was almost offended.

"You broke your _nose_ and you think I'm worried about the shirt?" he asked flatly.

Madame Pomfrey, the matron, was an absolute legend. She shooed everyone out the door when the whole class showed up, squabbling outside her hospital wing. Roxanne and Zeph put up a good fight, but she was insistent. James was allowed in when he showed her his 'bleeding' shoulder but she snapped furiously when the girl (who I still didn't know the name of) tried to convince her she'd rolled her ankle.

Rolled ankle? Seriously? Did she miss the part where she broke my nose?

James got kicked out a second later when she realised he wasn't injured at all. The stain disappeared with a flick of her wand and then she shoved him out too and turned to me.

She clicked her tongue.

"What have you been doing, girl! Boxing?"

She fixed my nose in about a second and though it felt kind of weird, it no longer hurt, and that was all I wanted.

"Thanks," I smiled, touching my nose tenderly. It sat firmly in its place.

She handed me a wet towel and a basin. "Wash away the blood," she commanded.

Ugh, there was a lot of blood and I felt a little guilty as I used the fluffy white towel to wipe it away. But it felt so good when I could breathe through my nose again.

Pomfrey took the basin from me and didn't even flinch when I handed her back the face towel, now blood-stained. Ah, well I guess you get accustomed to seeing blood when you're a matron.

"Stay here," she ordered, before bustling back into her office.

I nodded, and sat down on the bed closest to me, looking around.

It was then that I noticed I wasn't alone.

Lying in the bed three beds down from me was a girl. She had light brown hair and large blue eyes that looked away quickly as soon as she saw me turn to her. I frowned. She looked about my age, but she looked very frail, and something pulled a little at my heart.

Making a snap decision, I got up and walked over to her, putting on a big smile.

"Hey," I said, stopping next to her and perching myself on the end of her bed.

Her eyes widened, and she stared at me in shock for a bit.

I bit my lip. I hoped she would say something soon, otherwise I would look like a downright idiot.

Then a small, meek smile graced her lips.

"Hi," she said softly, and her voice was slightly raspy, but very gentle. "How's your nose?"

I laughed. "It's seen better days, but it's feeling much better now." Her look was inquiring and I laughed again. "Classroom brawl, no biggie."

Her eyes widened again, and I backtracked quickly. She looked too frail to be shocked right now. "No, no, I'm kidding!" I reassured her. She visibly relaxed.

"I got caught in the middle of a James Potter fan girl attack."

I don't think she was expecting that either.

I nodded. "I know, I thought the first one was more plausible too."

Her laugh was airy and breathless but it made me smile because she looked like she could do with a good laugh.

"What about you? Which of the James Potter fan girls of the world landed you in here?" I asked, even though I knew that it would be nothing of the sort.

She sighed. "Just a really weak immune system," she muttered after a pause.

She looked really downcast and I wanted to say something to comfort her, but I didn't really know what.

"Miss Walker, I hope you are not distressing my patient!"

I practically jumped out of my skin. Holy Merlin, she was terrifying.

"No, she's just keeping me company," the girl said with a smile.

"Yes, well," said Madame Pomfrey, looking at my sternly, before picking up a small vial from the tray she'd carried in. It was filled with a dark purplish coloured liquid. She waved it under my nose.

"Your nose is fine, but I want to make sure the cartilage is not weakened, so use this, and wipe a little bit across the bridge of your nose every morning when you wake up and before you go to bed," – she did just this, making my nose suddenly feel really cold and I went cross-eyed trying to see what was happening to it – " – for the next three days, then come back to me at the end. I want to check it."

I rubbed my nose. "Okay," I nodded, pocketing the vial.

"And," she said calmly, while pouring some different liquid into a little measuring cup, "While he is a rather attractive boy, I'm not sure James Potter is worth broken bones."

Huh?

How is that –

Oh my god.

OH MY GOD.

No freaking way.

"No!" I shouted, in absolute horror. "It wasn't like that! No, I wasn't the one who – "

Oh my god, she thought _I_ was the fan girl!

This was beyond embarrassing.

"Eww! Madame Pomfrey, you've got it all wrong. Like… ew…"

I shuddered. She ignored me and stalked back into her office, taking the measuring cup with her. I stared after her in disbelief. I turned to the girl on the bed.

"You know that it wasn't me, right?"

Her lips twitched. "Madame Pomfrey's just seen a lot of it. But no, you don't really strike me as one of them."

I beamed. "Thank you." I stuck out my hand. "I'm Valerie Walker by the way, nice to meet you."

She looked at my hand, and then reached out to grasp it.

"Svetlana Penn."

* * *

My week turned out not so painful after all. I met a few more people, and I got my first taste of the gossip chain at Hogwarts. The story of my broken nose spread like wildfire, and I had people coming up to me in the corridors, trying to get a glimpse of it, as though I would have just left my nose unfixed for them all to gawk at. And the rumours just got more ridiculous.

"So I heard my cousin punched you in the face."

"Oh yeah," I muttered sarcastically, while Fred amusedly scooped some more mashed potatoes onto his plate. "We got into a huge fight over who got to plant the last seed in Herbology. I broke his collarbone, didn't you hear?"

Even Monsieur Sex-Face inquired about my nose. I tried not to let that get to my head. By that time of course, my nose had already been shattered to pieces.

Rose informed me of a time she almost got a concussion when a girl shoved her into a wall in an attempt to get to Albus.

"It's not only James who has fan girls. Basically, if you want to keep your body intact, stay away from all Potter and Weasley males," she warned me, grabbing my elbow and dragging me out of the way as her brother, a third year named Hugo, rounded the corner in a panic, two giggling first years tailing him.

Point taken.

"That one, especially," she said pointedly, swivelling me around.

"Don't be so cruel, Rosie," pouted Louis.

But, see _that_ _one_, I could understand.

_Ahh_…

And then that day finally came.

It was during breakfast and I was about to devour my third waffle when a tinkling of spoon against glass made me look up.

"Attention please!" McGonagall put her glass down and stood up.

"Now," She stepped out from behind the table, and up to the podium. "I know that many of you would have been wondering over the past week why Quidditch tryouts were postponed."

I sat up a bit straighter at this.

She took a breath. "I'm sure many of you remember, or have heard of, an old tournament that used to be held between magical schools over 20 years ago; The Triwizard Tournament."

A smattering of whispers ran through the hall.

"Of course, after the death of Cedric Diggory, the Tournament was permanently terminated."

The hairs on my neck tingled. People rarely spoke of that incident.

"However, recently it has been a topic of much discussion that students were not receiving the benefits that the Tournament brought – the chance to meet students from other schools."

I exchanged a look with the others, wondering where she was going with this.

"So, after much deliberation, it has been decided that we will, in place of the Triwizard Tournament – "

The entire hall held its breath.

" – hold an Interschool Quidditch Competition."

Silence.

A pin drop could have been heard.

And then the hall erupted.

Cheering blasted everywhere in my ears, and McGonagall was positively beaming.

I looked to Fred, my mouth gaping. He winked.

"Told you it would be worth it."

Merlin, I loved him for cancelling tryouts.

"The reason why tryouts were postponed, was because Madame Harper didn't want to be influenced by who the respective Captains chose for their teams, and wanted to base her judgement purely on the skill of the player."

Harper stood from her seat and walked to the podium.

"I don't care what house you're in. I don't care what year you're in. If you've got skill, you're in the team. But I warn you all, that training will be tough, and I expect you all at every session. I do not make room for slackers. The Captain of Hogwarts' Quidditch team will be chosen by me, and year levels will not be taken into account – I pick _only_ by skill."

The buzz of excitement through the Hall was absolutely uncontrollable.

"I will be taking 14 players – two of each position. To prevent identification of house, everyone please change into muggle clothes and I will see you down at the pitch in an hour."

I couldn't believe it.

Interschool Quidditch Competition?

I think I finally knew what the VERY VERY EXCITING THING was.

* * *

"I will be splitting you off into groups at random, and you will come up two groups at a time to play on the pitch."

Basically we were going to compete against each other in a string of matches.

"And I will be assigning your positions."

Wait wait wait wait wait.

What?

"I will be assigning your positions," she repeated, ignoring the disbelieving looks on people's faces. "Everyone will get a chance to play each position, so don't worry, you will be able to show me where your skills lie. However, I would like to have a team of athletes who are capable of playing more than one position."

Panic must have been obvious on people's faces because she added: "I know most of you only train in one position, so today, I am merely looking for potential."

She assigned numbers off at random to keep it impersonal. And then it was off to the stands to wait our turn, where the rest of the non-Quidditch-playing school had assembled to watch.

I looked at the large '53' pinned to my T-shirt. I guess I would be waiting a while.

"You nervous?"

My head snapped up. Fred stood above me, grinning, a '28' pinned to his chest.

I shrugged, trying to seem cool, even though my stomach was a squirming mess. "A little, I guess."

"Ah, don't be nervous, Walker," he said sitting down next to me on the bench. "You're a great flier. Your morning stunt show was incredibly impressive."

"But she wants me to play more than one position," I blurted out in a panic, "I can only play one."

"Don't worry. You heard what she said: she's only looking for potential. Calm down." His hand patted comfortingly on my back.

Roxanne, who was number 47, sat down on my other side.

"This is nerve-racking," she muttered. She didn't look like she was going to vomit though, unlike yours truly.

We sat in the stands watching the Madame Harper organise the players. I assessed the competition.

Out of the first two groups, only number's 2, 7, 10 and 14 really caught my eye. The rest were just a mess, and a few collisions in the air meant the match ended swiftly.

Number 2 was a small slim girl with fair hair, and I think Harper had assigned her correct position because she was pretty good in the position of chaser. She was fast and scored about 8 goals.

Number 7 was Zeph and she was fantastic. She was assigned keeper and though she grimaced when told her position, she saved more than half the shots, which was impressive because I knew that she was not a keeper.

Number 10 was a huge seventh year with close cropped hair. Though he was a terrible seeker, he flew with undoubtable strength and agility and I knew that I would have to look out for him when he played his own position.

Number 14 was a boy I recognised as someone I'd seen around with Fred. He had been assigned beater and there was no doubt that he was in his preferred position. He shot the bludgers with power and accuracy and in all honesty, he looked bored.

Before I knew it, I found myself mentally jotting down anyone who looked like a threat.

To my utter dismay, there were a lot of them.

My first trial was a disaster. I had been assigned seeker and it was possibly the worst position she could have assigned me. That ball was bloody tiny! I was trained to see a large red Quaffle, not a microscopic golden speck.

Luckily for me however, my opposing seeker was Roxanne. We were just as clueless as each other.

Half an hour later, with the groups completely different, my second turn arrived.

"Keeper," Harper told me gruffly.

Keeper would… not be as bad… I hoped…

I was wrong. One of the chasers in the opposing group was James. And Merlin save me, the kid was amazing.

The way he flew through the air – wow. Just wow.

The Quaffle brushed my fingers in one of his shots, and I swear my fingers almost broke. The power behind it was incredible. I wanted to cry. Was there anything he _wasn't_ good at?

I managed to save one, but that was only because Number 71 panicked and basically tossed the ball to me.

Needless to say, my confidence was slipping fast.

However, I was feeling a little better come third round.

"Beater."

I looked up and smiled. Finally, something I was used to.

Once, back at Beauxbaton's, Marc had asked me to hold his beater's bat while he changed his jersey. I agreed, but while he was slipping on his spare jersey, Sophie thought it would be hilarious to send a Bludger my way. Yes, hilarious.

I, of course, panicked, and without thinking, swung at the Bludger as hard as I could, and ended up sending it straight through the centre hoop. It was an absolute fluke of course, but Madame Rousseau saw it and was ecstatic and insisted I train as a beater.

I'd had one or two sessions before I left, so I think this one would be okay.

"You look scary with that thing," I heard someone comment.

I looked up and grinned at Albus. He had been assigned seeker for this round, and I think good Quidditch skills ran in the Potter blood, because he was incredible as well, and caught the Snitch about 2 minutes in.

I must say though, I did contribute in the catching of that Snitch. At one point, Number 34 aimed a Bludger at Al, who was hot on the tail of a particularly sneaky Snitch. I, being oh-so-wonderful, deflected it back at him, and this allowed Al to make his catch.

Oh yes, I was feeling better now.

"Thanks," Al told me, as we headed back to the stands for another bout of waiting "I think 34 would have done my head in if it weren't for you."

And then the final round.

I stood in front of Harper, grinning broadly, because I knew which position I would get.

"Chaser."

My heart sang.

Time to show these kids what you're made of, Walker.

I was about to take off when I felt a tap on my shoulder. I looked around.

"Hey there, 53."

"Ringo!" I flung my arms around his neck, surprised. "I didn't know you played Quidditch!"

I was ecstatic. He laughed.

"I've never tried out before, but I thought I would give it a shot. Though I doubt I'm as good as you."

I rolled my eyes. "We're on the same team Ringo. You don't have to suck up to me so I'll go easy on you," I teased.

In all honesty, I had no idea what he was on about. I was even a little annoyed that he'd never tried out before because he was spectacular.

"Are you sure you've never been on a team before?" I asked, eyes narrowed, as he scored his third goal.

"Positive," he replied, with a grin.

I was rather pleased with myself too. I scored 18 goals in total by the end, and all modesty aside, it was pretty bloody fantastic.

Number 40, the other chaser on my team, flew over to me as we descended.

"You're really good," he muttered quietly, with a genial smile.

I smiled back, charmed, because he was really good himself, scoring 15 goals. Basically, our side of the team for Round 4 won by a mile.

"You too," I said, shaking his hand.

Harper was busy scribbling down notes on her clipboard so everyone lingered for a bit, wondering what would happen now.

Finally she looked up.

"I will now be experimenting with different groups of players to see how they work as a team. Number's 25, 18, 119, 40" – I smiled at my previous teammate encouragingly – "127, 12, and 43, step forward please. Number's 91, 60, 22, 53, 14, 101 and 86, step forward please. Everyone else please return to the stands."

All the numbers she'd mentioned were people I had remembered to be exceptional. I knew that she was starting to cut the numbers down.

I released a breath I hadn't realised I was holding. I'd made the shortlist. That was good.

I looked around at my team.

There was Al and James. Then Number 14, Fred's friend who I'd mentioned earlier, and 86, a beater who could actually put a _spin_ on the Bludgers as he hit them and nearly unseated me once. Number 101 was a girl with the most gorgeous long brown hair, and I remembered she played chaser. And Number 22 –

My heart thudded in my chest.

"Good luck," he told me, with a _heart-breaking_ smile and a pat on the back before he took off.

The way the wind tousled his silky hair, and the way his muscles flexed when he tossed the Quaffle, and that _smile…_

_Ahh_…

WAS THAT WOMAN MAD? PUTTING HIM ON MY TEAM?

I shook my head vigorously.

Focus, Valerie, focus.

At least I wouldn't have to shoot against him, while he –

Focus.

"Ready, go!"

Harper blew down on her whistle and we took off. Number 101 reached the Quaffle first, but was blocked by Number 12 within a few metres. With a simple flick of her fingers, she tossed the Quaffle to me. She was good.

I was flying as fast as I could, but my path was far too predictable and I knew that the Bludgers would be slamming into me before I could get anywhere near the goal posts. So, just when Number 18 came to intercept me, I dropped the Quaffle, with James waiting right below me to catch it.

We scored our first goal.

The next one was scored by me, after a particularly tight struggle with my pal 40. He almost got it off me, but with a little help from 101, I managed to get hold of the Quaffle and send it flying straight through the left hoop, after feinting to the right.

The game was close, and I marked 18 and 40 as my biggest threats. They were quick, and 18 especially, had this knack for appearing out of nowhere. He managed to tackle the Quaffle off me at one point, and the thing that threw me was that he looked so calm. It pissed me off even more.

We were tied 60 – 60. The low score bugged me, because I knew we were better than that, but the keepers on both sides (127, and… _him. Ahh…_) were outstanding, and the chasers were so evenly matched that the Quaffle remained in a constant struggle in the middle of the pitch, and anyone rarely got a shooting chance. So despite the low scores, Harper was looking very impressed.

That was good and all… but I still wanted to win.

"Red!"

I caught the ball with my right hand, narrowly avoiding 18 – again – and flew in a slight arc around 40, towards 127, who was watching me intently, hoping to intercept my goal.

I narrowed my eyes, calculating my chances, when suddenly I felt something tighten around my neck.

What the - ?

I swivelled my head, and almost growled. Number 12, a stocky boy who was much younger than me, had grabbed onto the back of my T-shirt in an attempt to slow me. He pulled me back and scrabbled for the Quaffle. I almost choked. I could hear yelling and people screaming at me to stop, but there was no way I was going to let this kid win. And an idea came to me.

If this worked, I would get major brownie points.

Instead of slowing, I increased my speed – everyone shrieked louder, including an outraged "ARE YOU CRAZY?" which I think was James – dragging 12 behind me, and then, I slipped backwards off my broom, hanging by my knees from my footholds.

I laughed out loud. Thank you Madame Rousseau, for not letting me quit when I couldn't do that move first try, and thank you Mum, for making me do Aero-Gymnastics in the first place.

Confused babble issued and I heard people gasp in disbelief. I grinned and thanked Merlin that I was wearing a baggy T-shirt, and let it slip right over my head.

And yes, you perverts, I _was_ wearing a tank top underneath. I don't just _strip_ on Quidditch pitches, brownie points or not.

The Quaffle still gripped tightly in my right hand, I lifted myself back onto the broom and headed straight for the goals, leaving a very stunned 12 behind me, clutching nothing but a handful of sweaty T-shirt.

And I watched in great satisfaction as the bright red ball soared straight through the centre hoop.

A whistle sounded and we all descended to the ground, where Harper was practically spitting with fury.

"GET OFF MY PITCH!" she shrieked at the top of her lungs to a forlorn looking Number 12.

I would have felt sorry for him, if, you know, he hadn't tried to choke me.

"Miss Walker, are – ?"

"You're out of your mind!"

"_Are you okay?_"

"How the hell did you do that?"

"How the hell did you do that and _live_?"

"Thank god you were wearing a tank top."

"Very nice, Walker."

Looks like I might even owe 12 some thanks.

* * *

**So. I bet you all saw this in your email boxes and went "Who's K Corra?" and I totally understand, my friends, I totally understand. I wouldn't even blame you if you added, "Oh yes, that K's a failure who never updates, let's give up on her."**

**However, if it makes it any better, you may have realised that this chapter is in fact rather long. 8,678 words to be exact (Even though FF might tell you it's 10,268 words and I have no idea why), which is about 3 times longer than the others, so maybe it makes up for the fact that it took 3 times as long to update? Insert pleading face here.**

**The reason why it's so long is because I couldn't find a clean cut where I could make a second chapter without leaving everyone hanging, and I didn't want to push Quidditch tryouts to the next chapter, because I'd already told you all it would be this chapter. **

**Everyone's reactions to Ringo were great, which made me really happy because I really liked the way he turned out 8D**

**Originally, the introduction of Svetlana Penn was going to be a totally separate scene, but it just flowed and I just randomly added her in the Hospital Wing completely on whim. Let me know what you think of her! :)**

**To chasing a fairytale: ****Ughh Quidditch is _really_ hard to write. I'm sorry if it didn't make your expectations *cries* and I'm sorry there wasn't a lot of Louis Weasley, but there was more of your second favourite, which hopefully made up for it? (stopmakingexcusesKugh)**

**Pfft, why am I writing this I doubt anyone is still reading this. **

**If you _are_ still reading this, please give me some ideas on little things that you would like to happen! I have a rough plan, but I am still in need of a few small scenes and such. If anyone has any ideas, or anything that they would like to see in the future (I dunno, I personally could so with some ****sexy s****hirtless Potter-Weasley males) please let me know, I am open to all ideas! ;DD**

**Right, I should shut up now.**

**Toodles,**

**xxx K**


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